In Blackest Night
by Sithari
Summary: What if Revan's mind wasn't destroyed when Malak turned against his former master? An alternate, What if Fic set in KOTOR. Alternate Title: I Wrote the First Nine Chapters in Junior High and Now I'm in College.
1. Assault on the Endar Spire

In Blackest Night

            The Endar Spire twisted towards its starboard side in a failing attempt to evade the incoming laser fire. Sith fighters shot along its surface, laying waste to the outer hull as smoke began to billow out from her engines. A laser volley from the Leviathan ripped a hole through the aft plating as the besieged Republic starship tumbled towards the planets surface. 

            The bridge of the Endar Spire was a wreck. An explosion near the blast door collapsed a large section of bulkhead onto a technician trying to re-activate the ships energy shields. Carth Onasi grabbed hold of command console to try and keep his footing as the ship was rocked by another volley from the Leviathan. He looked back to make sure Bastila wasn't hurt. He needn't have worried. 

            The legendary Jedi sentinel stood calmly beside a vertical map, watching a sea of red overwhelm the single green triangle near the maps center. Standing next to Bastila was her… apprentice? Is that what she had said? No… from what he had seen, it was, if anything, the other way around. Between the ringing of alarms and the explosions heralding their impending demise, Carth was able to overhear bits of their conversation.

            "Why aren't we doing anything? Between my Battle-Meditation and your tactical abilities, we should be able to do _something_."

            "With one battered Republic command carrier against the whole of the Sith fleet? I don't care what powers you claim to posses, Jedi, this is not a battle we will win."

            "I was not suggesting we try and _win_, I was suggesting we pool our talents to help us _escape_."

            "You mean run? A Si…" Another explosion rocked the bridge, knocking a few of the soldiers to the ground. "-rd never runs."

            An emergency light on the command console in front of Carth began to flash, signaling a breach in the lower decks. Carth muttered under his breath as he flipped on the ship-wide communicator.

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            Trask Ulgo ran through the hallway as a repair droid in front of him crossed a wire it shouldn't have and exploded across the hallway, slamming into the far wall. Trask leapt over the flaming pile of metal and landed, albeit little awkwardly, at a four-way junction, with the left corridor leading to the bridge. He paused as his personal communicator lit up with a live image of Carth Onasi transmitting from the bridge.

            "This is Carth Onasi - the Sith are threatening to overrun our position! We can't hold out long against their firepower! All hands to the bridge!"

            As the fuzzy, black and white image disappeared from Trask's wrist, a pair of armored Sith troopers rounded the corner.

            "Speak of the devil…" Trask muttered as he pulled his blaster.

            -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            "Be that as it may, I'd hardly call _you_ one of those anymore. In spirit, maybe, but not in flesh. And before you try to argue otherwise, I'd like to remind you of the Sith troopers charging towards the bridge, screaming for your head."

            "Actually, dear Bastila, it is _your_ head they are screaming for, not mine."

            Bastila's eyes narrowed as she leaned towards her companion.

            "That is _hardly_ the point, and you know it. I've been charged with getting you safely back to Dantooine, and I intend to see that mission carried out. Why _must_ you _always_ be so infuriating? If you really want to get at Malak, you know you'll have to take all the allies you can get!"

            Bastila was interrupted as a hand was laid on her shoulder. 

            "You should get out of here. Before they cut off the escape pods."

            Bastila looked at the tired, war-weary trooper standing before her.

            "What about you?"

            Carth flashed her a small smile.

            "I'll stay here with the troops… try and hold the Sith off as long as we can."

            "There's no need for that… you should come with us. I could…"

            "Look, Bastila, I'm just a soldier. Nobody's going to miss me when I'm gone. If we loose you, than we loose the war. You've got to get off this ship alive."

            Bastila nodded.

            "You'll get a medal for this, Carth. I'll make sure of that."

            "Heh… just make sure they spell the name right, okay?"

            Bastila left for the ships starboard section, but her companion lingered a while more, staring at Carth with a look of incomprehension, before fading off towards the escape pods.


	2. The Heavens Tremble

Chapter 2: The Heavens Tremble

            Mission pulled a small chunk of rock away from the refuse pile, revealing a serviceable, if somewhat tarnished vibroblade. She pulled it free and held it up for appraisal. Several spots along the blade, free of rust and wear, still glistened in the artificial light.

            "Nice. Polish this off, we could get ten, maybe twenty credits for it."

            Zaalbar glanced around, watching for the Rakgulls to come out of the shadows and start their inevitable attacks. Usually there were only two or three, but lately the packs had been getting larger… and more persistent. Zaalbar let out a low growl. A growl few non-Wookies understood.

            "Oh, settle down, Zaalbar. You worry too much. We'll be out of here before you know it." 

            Mission slid the rusted sword into a hand-woven sheath that ran across her back.

"Besides, nothing out of the ordinary happens down here nowadays anyway." 

Mission turned to face her best friend as the ceiling behind her exploded inwards, sending down a shower of dust and debris over half the Undercity. Zaalbar pulled Mission underneath him in an attempt to shield her from the huge slabs of steel and concrete plummeting to the ground. Dust from the crashing rubble enveloped the pair, blinding them. Lighter debris rained down around them for a few more moments, a few pieces striking Zaalbar in the back as he covered Mission. When the dust cleared, and the falling debris stopped, Zaalbar slowly stood up as Mission crawled out from under him. As she dusted herself off, she turned to Zaalbar.

"Thanks, Big Z. Don't know what I'd do without you."

Zaalbar let out a low howl. Mission smiled and gave her friend a quick hug.

"Oh come on, you big softie, that's not true." Mission pulled back, performing a quick scan of the Undercity. 

"We'd better find out what that was about."

Reven stood up, adjusting the collar of his jacket into a somewhat presentable fashion. Not that he had anyone to impress. Bastila was knocked out cold. Reven stared down at the unconscious Jedi. Worthless trash. He knelt down and search the still breathing body for the only worthwhile thing she could give him. Even as he searched, Reven's eyes lingered, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest… the soft wisp of her breathing. It was… soothing, almost. Peaceful. Even… No!

Reven jerked up, half out of frustration, half out of self-disgust. The stupid kinrath didn't even have her lightsaber. Where the Hell did she keep it? On the ship? Did she have it with her when they jumped into the escape pod? Reven slumped against the wall. This certainly put a kink in the already rocky plan he had come up with. Leave Bastila unconscious. Steal her lightsaber. Find a way onto the Leviathan. Find Malak. Kill Malak. Reclaim the title "Dark Lord of the Sith". Now, he had no lightsaber. Sure, he could still cleave his way through Malak's worthless drones using conventional weapons and the Force, but even Reven wasn't arrogant enough to think he could take on a Sith Lord without a lightsaber. Reven slid down the wall until he was sitting on the pods cold, steel floor. If his luck got any worse…

The door to the pod was flung open, and a green Twi'Lek stepped in, waving his blaster around. There were at least fifteen more thugs behind outside the pod, from what Reven could see. The one in the pod began shouting out alien gibberish. 

"All right, hands in the air, scum. We'll be taking you and your pretty friend there. Brejik'll want some time alone with her, soon enough."

Reven rolled his eyes. Is this what normal people had to put up with?

"Hey, when I tell ya 'ta do something, that means you do it? Understood? Now get up off your ass, or I'll plaster it all over the wall!"

Lightning arched through the confined space of the escape pod from Reven's hand and into the unlucky Twi'Lek's chest. He screamed, falling backwards out the door and landing hard on the dirt ground, his body still twitching.

The Black Vulkars hesitated. 

The man emerged from the shadows of the pod, coming to rest in its doorway. The Vulkars began to raise their blasters, their survival instinct overpowering their desire to take a live slave. The man threw out his hand, and there was a sharp blast of air as each Vulkar was knocked off their feet. As they started to get up, lightning surged from the stranger, coursing through all sixteen of them in turn. The fierce electrical barrage was maintained for almost sixteen seconds, leaving the Vulkar recovery team charred and smoldering. 

Reven had always liked Force execution.

Mission slipped her head back down below the rubble pile, whispering to Zaalbar excitedly.

"Did you see that? He must be a Jedi! We should see if he needs any… wait, isn't it only Dark Jedi who do the lightning thing?"

Zaalbar looked back at her helplessly.

"Yeah… I guess you wouldn't know, huh?"

Mission lifted her head above the debris to get another quick glance at the stranger, but he had disappeared inside the escape pod. When she was once again hidden completely from view, she and Zaalbar discussed a course of action.

"I think we should sneak up for a closer look. Wait outside the pod, maybe. See if he's a Dark Jedi or…"

Zaalbar growled.

"Oh, come on, you big baby. Maybe he's got some sweet Jedi… gear inside."

Zaalbar growled a little lower.

"All right, all right. We'll just wait here and see what happens. How about that?"

Zaalbar let out a moan.

"Jeez, you're suppose to be the big, strong one. I thought you'd be a little more gung-ho about this."

Zaalbar let out another moan.

"I am _not_ blind. Of course I saw what he did to those Vulkars. We're not going to try and capture him, though, are we? We're just going to wait here until he leaves, then sneak into his pod and see if he left any goodies for us. If he didn't, we'll leave, and if he does, we'll grab 'em and high tail it out of there. He's never going to find us on a planet of 12 billion people."

Zaalbar gave up with a defeated howl.

"Don't worry, Big Z, it'll be fine."

But it wasn't fine.


	3. Close Encounters

Chapter 3: Close Encounters

"Oh, _man_ does this thing smell."

The elevator shot downward into the lower city, two Sith troopers in full battle armor stood side by side, watching the Taris skyline shoot up into the heavens. 

"Well, what were you expecting? The Sith don't exactly smell like roses, you know."

"At least we didn't have to pry these things off a dead one. God knows what that would have smelt like."

The elevator slowed to a halt at the Lower City, its doors opening to the degrading corridors and battle scarred halls that permeated the Lower City, and unwittingly spilling the two occupants into the middle of a full fledge gang war.

            ----------------------------------------------

            Mission slid her finger along the dirt, drawing a rather amateurish sketch of a Bantha, consisting mainly of two circles, tree trunk legs, and spiral horns. Her work complete, Mission sighed and leaned back against the debris pile. Stakeouts were so _boring_. Why couldn't the guy just have left after he finished off those Vulkars? She lifted her head above the rubble pile to check on the pod again. A hint of movement inside the doorway. Mission held her breath.

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            Reven stepped out of the escape pod and surveyed the Undercity. A decaying relic from a long forgotten time. Nothing more. Criminals from the world above were banished here, forced to live out their remaining days in this degrading squalor. A dramatic change from what most of the spoiled pigs were used to, he imagined. There would be nothing for him here, Reven knew. He needed to get to the Upper City…

            Reven had modified his original plan. Malak had taken the Sith from him with a cowardly betrayal, attacking Reven from afar. It was only appropriate that Reven take them back without giving Malak a chance to defend himself. Reven smiled out at the universe he would once again command. Best of all, this plan didn't require a lightsaber.

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            "He's leaving for the Outcast Village!"

            At Mission's harsh whisper, Zaalbar looked up long enough to see the village gates close behind someone.

            "C'mon! Who knows when he'll be back?"

            Mission leapt deftly over the debris pile and took off towards the downed escape pod, Zaalbar following a little ways behind her.

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            Igear watched the man enter the village. Grey pants, Red flight jacket… he wasn't from the Undercity. He was from the surface. That meant credits. Igear didn't remember seeing him come down, but that was really a mute point anyway. He didn't care if the man teleported here from Courisant, so long as the stranger had credits.

            "Excuse me! You! You're not from around here, I can tell. Looks like you got fine taste too, I might add."

            The look the stranger shot Igear would have caused many to loose their bowel contents. Igear, however, was not so easily dissuaded. 

            "I've got weapons, I do. Not the best stuff… mostly salvage and such, but I found an Echani Vibroblade a few weeks back… and an Arkanian energy pistol… excellent model… superb craftsmanship."

            The stranger stopped, considering Igear's offer. After a few moments the man strode purposely towards Igear and his little outcast shop.

            "Let me see the weapons."

            "The Vibroblade and the pistol? Right away."

            Igear laid the two items on the crate he used for transactions. The man examined them as Igear cemented the sale.

            "The Echani Vibroblades are very valuable. Sought after by collectors and mercenaries alike, I understand. They're a lot more flexible than the average melee weapon. Not a lot of that brutish hacking and bashing. That Vibroblade is a thinker's weapon, that's for sure. Can't say the same for the pistol. A heavy hitter, through and through. Now… uh…"

            Igear leaned in, adding drama to his claim.

            "Don't tell anyone I told ya this… but those Arkanian pistols can punch a hole right through Sith body armor. Lay them troopers out flat."

            Igear leaned back. This one was a sure fire sell. With the money from this sale, he could buy Gendar right out of office. A few speeches, a few promises and before long he'd be running this place again.

            "I'll take them."

            Igear smiled.

            "Excellent! Excellent! That'll be 1,200 credits for the pair. Hope they serve you long and well, my friend. Long and well."

            Before Igear could move, the barrel of the Arkanian pistol was pressed against his forehead, the voice of the stranger cold and menacing.

            "I said 'I'll take them.'"

            "T… _Take_ them? I can't just let you…"

            The blaster fired.

            -------------------------------------------------------------

            Zaalbar's head jerked up at the sound of weapons fire. Something wasn't right. He turned to tell Mission, but she was engrossed with something she found in the escape pod.

            "Oh My God! Zaalbar! Quick! Come take a look at this!"

            Zaalbar moved up to the pod's open door and looked over Mission's shoulder.

            Inside the pod lay a young, unconscious woman. Attractive, by human standards… or at least what Zaalbar knew of them. Zaalbar tried to explain her presence.

            "No… I don't think it's his mate, Big Z."

            He asked Mission what they should do.

            "I dunno. That guy probably left to get a doctor. She looks hurt."

            Or he had left her to die. Zaalbar mentioned this possibility.  

            "No way… No one would do that. He probably went to get help from the village."

            Zaalbar told Mission of the gunshot from within the village. Was that getting help?

            "I don't know… we should do something… maybe take her to Zelka… but what if that Jedi comes back for her and she's not here?"

            Zaalbar started to reply, but the padded slap of rapid footfalls against the gray dirt signaled the approaching rakgoul pack. Zaalbar turned to assess the size of the threat. It looked like rakgouls were everywhere. Crawling along the walls, leaping out of pits, charging across the flat, featureless dirt. Seventeen at least. The largest pack he had ever seen…. Even heard about. This wasn't normal. Something had agitated them. Severely.

            Zaalbar reached into the pod and lifted the unconscious figure into his arms as Mission took potshots at the Rakgouls with her blaster, trying to keep them at bay. She heard Zaalbar give out a roar.

            "You know, people don't usually try to escape _into_ the sewers, Big Z."

            Mission fired a few shots at another rakgoul. The pack was starting to break apart, trying to circle the pod and cut off escape.

            Zaalbar gave out another roar.

            "Yeah, I guess there is a first time for everything. Let's get moving before these guys get any closer."

            Mission and Zaalbar turned and ran for the nearest sewer entrance, the heavy footfalls of the rakgoul pack growing louder in pursuit.

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            Vera shifted her weight to her left foot, trying to keep the circulation going. "Adventure", the recruiters said. "Excitement", they said. "Come see the galaxy", they said. Just her luck. The most exciting job in the galaxy, and she gets stuck guarding a run down lift from a run down part of town into an even more run down part of town. They hadn't even assigned the spot a dual post so she could at least have someone to talk to. Not to mention that the cooling units in her armor had broken down, making the temperature inside her combat suit near 96 degrees Fahrenheit. 

            Vera sighed.

            This was, without a doubt, the worst post in the galaxy. 

            The ancient lift behind her groaned to life, signaling the arrival of another gallant, witty patrol returning from duty. Vera blew the hair out of her eyes. At least the anti-fogging units on her faceplate still worked, so she could see all the lovely decor the lower city provided. The doors screeched open, and Vera turned to welcome the patrol. 

            She never even saw what happened.

            A blaster fired. Her helmet shuddered as the laser blast passed through it and entered her head. Half her brain was instantly melted from the heat of it. Her vision started to go black. As she fell sideways towards the ground, Vera felt a sword slice through the fabric midpoint in her armor that joined the upper and lower halves together. She could feel the blade inside her stomach. The steel was cold… so cold. It was out again… a quick slice. The blade was gone… gone. It's cold still lingered. As Vera hit the ground, the blade pierced the back of her neck, severing her spinal cord. The sound of a footstep. The last sound she would ever hear. Vera's world faded into darkness. 

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            Reven walked purposely down the corridor, sliding his bloodstained sword into a makeshift sheathe and holstering his blaster. A successful trial run for both his new weapons. He passed Javyars's cantina, hearing blaster fire come from the west. 

A gang war Reven thought to himself. 

This was going to be fun.

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Canderous stepped out of the cantina, the sound of footfalls fading away towards the west. Blaster fire from that way as well. None of his concern. He signaled his men to start moving. Davik wanted those escape pods salvaged and he was on a time limit. Normally Davik had first dibs on things like this, but those damn Vulkars were getting out of hand. They might try to get their hands on the pods before Davik, and that would be bad for business all around.

            "All right, ladies. We ain't got all day. The sooner we get to the Undercity, the sooner we can get back out again. Move out."

            -----------------------------------------------

            Carth ducked back behind the shipping crate as laser blasts flew overhead.

            "Damn it. They've got us pinned down. I can't get a clear shot."

            Trask clutched his rifle tightly, his mind racing.

            "Maybe I can distract them. I'll jump out into the hallway and start shooting. When they pop out to blast me, you can pick 'em off with those pistols."

            Carth looked at Trask, his partner oddly malevolent in the Sith armor.

            "That sounds pretty risky."

            "I'll be fine. I've seen you shoot those things, Carth. You're not going to miss. Besides…"

            Trask slapped his armor.

            "This stuff is good for a few blaster hits."

            "Alright. I guess… I don't have a better plan, at any rate. When I count to…"

            The Vulkar's screams interrupted Carth, and almost caused him to drop his blasters. The screams were so… unexpected… so pained… so wrenching. When the wails finally died away, they were followed by the dull thud of bodies hitting the cold ground. 

            Trask and Carth looked at each other.

            "What the Hell was that?" Worry was evident in Trask's voice.

            "Damned if I know."

            "Maybe it was a trick."

            "I don't think anybody can fake something like that."

            "Then what the Hell was it?"

            "I don't know. I'll take a look."

            Carth stood, his blaster pistols pointed at arms length down the corridor. He had risen in time to see three dead Vulkars sprawled across the floor, and the access lift beside them shooting into the Upper City.


	4. Needle in a Haystack

> Chapter 4: Needle in a Haystack
> 
> The lift lumbered upward, groaning slowly along on its rusted cables. The Sith
> 
> troopers onboard discussed a murder in the Undercity below.

"It's just another outcast. They die all the time."

"This one was shot. That's not normal."

"He's right. I think one of the fugitives killed him."

"Just another outcast. It's no concern of ours."

"Maybe we should report it?"

"You know how much the higher-ups hate to be bothered."

"It might be important. We should tell someone."

The patrol captain interrupted, annoyed.

"_I_ am in charge, in case you've forgotten, and if I say it's of no concern, then _it is of no concern_. Understood?"

The lift screeched to a halt, and the doors labored to open into the Lower City. The troopers stopped, staring at the sight that greeted them. A Sith sentry lay face down in a pool of her own blood, dark crimson splattered over her chrome armor. She had been shot in the head… near point blank range. Stabbed too… more than once, it looked like, through the joints in her armor. After a while, one of the men spoke.

"Still 'none of our concern'?"

The captain swallowed.

"Contact the Governor."

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Trask turned the body over, searching for blaster wounds or vibroblade cuts… anything that might give some clue as to how the Bothan died. He straightened up, sighing. There was nothing. Well… there was the smell, but it seemed like everything on this planet gave off a pungent odor.

"I take it you didn't find anything either?" Carth had been examining the other two bodies.

"Not a scratch."

Carth stood up, looking over the scene.

"Well, something killed them. You don't think… You don't think maybe there's a dark Jedi running around nearby, do you? I've heard they can do things like this."

Trask began searching the Bothan's pockets.

"If there is, we came _this_ close to being ass-dust." Trask said, using two of his fingers to indicate a very small margin of space.

Carth looked solemnly upwards towards the lift leading into the Upper City.

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"Alright, you're clear. Once the lift gets back, you can head on down."

Captain Mesal motioned Davik's men through to the lift, passing a virtual gauntlet of blaster turrets and armored troopers as they did. Ever since that soldier… Vera something… ever since that soldier was killed, the governor had tightened security around the Undercity lift twenty-fold. Something… Something had the higher-ups jumpy. It wasn't the murder… the Sith had lost more than their share of men to those damn swoop gangs before… No… something else was going on. Mesal turned as the lift doors opened up, and the Undercity patrol disembarked. As they did, Davik's men, lead by that brute of a Mandalorian, no less, stepped inside to take the patrol's place. Mesal didn't wait for his men to address him.

"Well? What have you found out? Or did you spend all that time keeping some lonely outcast girls company?"

"We searched the pod. Any survivors were long gone by the time we got there. There… there were some bodies by the pod's exit hatch... may have been a firefight. We talked to some of the outcasts about it… they said there was a large group of Vulkars meandering around down there a good hour or so ago."

The captain raised an eyebrow of disbelief as the lift in front of him headed down.

"Vulkars? You mean that swoop gang? The Undercity is a restricted area! They're not authorized to be down there! How did they manage to…?"

Mesal stopped, looking down at the crimson stain covering the floor.

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Bastila stirred painfully. The cold, iron grating beneath her was cutting hexes into her back. She rolled slowly onto her side. The world around her was a blurred mix of browns and grays, shifting and swirling over each other. She groaned as a burning jolt of pain shot through her skull. She must have hit her head when the pod crashed… but… how long had she been out? Bastila jerked her head instinctively, and painfully, upward as a small hand was laid on her shoulder.

"Hey there… are you okay? Your pod took quite the nosedive."

Bastila squinted at the figure through her pain, but the unshapely swirl of colors refused to correct themselves.

"Yes… I-I'm fine. Who… are you? What's going on?"

The voice responded, distant… muffled over the pounding of her head, but Bastila could almost swear it belonged to a child.

"My name's Mission Vao. This big guy here, he's my best friend Zaalbar. Your pod crashed into the Undercity while we were down there exploring. I guess that means you were part of the big space-battle, huh? Anyway, after it crashed, we…

Bastila interrupted the child.

"What about…" Bastila paused, pushing the pain aside to allow her mind a chance to grasp the situation.

"There was another onboard… in the pod… with me. Where… where is he now?"

Bastila braced herself, ready for the worst.

She was not disappointed.

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Revan stood in wonder, watching the wave of humanity swarm around him. Bodies. Hundreds of thousands of living, breathing bodies walked blindly past him from either direction completely ignorant of who stood in their midst's. Nobody bowed. Nobody groveled. Nobody begged for mercy. Revan twisted his head around, still amazed. Nobody gave him a second glance. Most didn't even look at him one. Those few that did gave him looks not of terror, but rather mild disapproval.

He began to move south, towards a nearly empty stretch of skyway, still amazed at the lack of attention he was attracting. As he walked, Revan went over his mental checklist. So far, his plans for Malak and the Republic all required one critical root factor, the sole thing in the galaxy more powerful than the force.

Credits.

It was also the one thing Revan currently lacked. His brisk stride stopped as he saw a sign hung outside the local cantina.

-Taris Dueling Ring-

Become the Taris Duel Champion!

-Cash Reward for all Victories-

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Jared kicked the Bothan's body onto its back. Just like the others. A Vulkar, badly burned, still carrying all his equipment. Something weird was going on here.

"Canderous, something's wrong here. I don't like it."

"That's too bad, since you're going to be down here for a while. Now see if you guys can manage to do something right for once and watch for Rakgouls while I search the pod, alright?"

Canderous climbed up the ramp as Davik's men scurried to their lookout positions. He sighed inwardly. This whole thing was a bad idea. The men were too green for this, and he couldn't baby-sit them all.

The inside of the pod was warmer than the Undercity outside. Whoever had been here wasn't too far gone, at least. No equipment or supplies to speak of. The fugitives would have taken those with them, which meant they would well equipped, and given the pile of Vulkars outside, they were at least halfway capable fighters.

Canderous shook his head.

There was no way this salvage mission was going to work unless Davik freed up some more experienced lackeys.

Canderous turned to leave the pod when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught something glimmer under the pilot's chair. Curious, he slipped the heavy repeater off his shoulders, and set it roughly on the ground. He lay down next to the pilot's chair, and, stretching mightily, reached his arm underneath, groping around blindly for whatever it was he had seen a few moments before. After a brief while of searching, his fingers clasped tightly around a cool, steel cylinder.


	5. All Hail the Mysterious Stranger

Chapter 5: All Hail the Mysterious Stranger

            "But… but sir! We… we don't have the manpower for that kind of operation!"

Mesal's eyes widened in exasperation. There was no way they'd be able to pull off this kind of stunt without drawing on more resources and men than it was worth. Honestly, all this to capture some stupid Jedi?

The governor turned to his subordinate as static monitor screens, the room's only source of illumination, bathed his face in an eerie, malevolent glow.

"Then pull men from the Upper City patrols. Call reinforcements down from the fleet. Recruit _Mercenaries_ if you have too."

The governor leaned in, his glare steel cold against Mesal.

"If you value your life at all, _Captain_, I would advise you not to dispute my orders in the future. You are dismissed."

Mesal backed slowly away from his commanding officer, who had turned his back to studying the glowing monitors.

The elevator slid upward towards the main level of the Sith base, smooth and silent. Mesal stood quietly in the center, his hands folded behind his back. The governor was completely mad. He should mention it to someone higher on the official ranking. Maybe then they could install someone who wasn't a conceited ego maniac. After a few seconds thought, Mesal dismissed the idea. The higher-ups were all completely mad, too.

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Bastila paced back and forth across the sewer grating, rubbing her still aching temples. Revan was free. The pod had crashed, she had been knocked unconscious, and Revan was free. The Twi'Lek had grabbed her body, hid her down here, safe from Sith search parties, and Revan was free.

Revan was free.

She reached down instinctively to her belt. She had always found a small bit of comfort came with holding her lightsaber. It helped remind her that, no mater what was happening, no mater what went wrong, she would always have the strength to deal with it.

But her fingers, reaching clumsily, gripped only empty air. She stopped pacing, and stared down at the belt loop that normally held the lightsaber's silver hilt.

Empty.

Revan was free and he had her lightsaber.

            Bastila looked up, heaving a great sigh of exasperation. She slumped against the wall, still massaging her temples.

            "Come on, you two. We'd better get moving."

            The Twi'Lek looked up at Bastila from her position on the sewer floor.

            "Get moving _where_? You know, you still haven't told us what's going on."

            "I know, and I apologize, but there really isn't time to explain. You'll just have to trust that I know what I'm doing. I am a Jedi, after all, if you'll remember."

The headache had begun to recede a bit, giving back some of Bastila's natural charisma, along with much of her natural arrogance. The Twi'lek stood, brushing sewer grime from her pants.

"Yeah, whatever. C'mon Zaalbar. We might as well go with her. Not like there's anything else to do down here."

Zaalbar let out a low moan that echoed softly down the sewer passageways.

Mission hunched forward, hands clasp firmly over her mouth to contain the outburst of laughter. Bastila turned sharply around, her eyes glaring daggers into the Twi'Lek's friend.

"I can speak Shriiwook."

Zaalbar howled out an apology.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_"AND IN THIS CORNER, THE NEWEST ADDITION TO THE TARIS DUELING SCENE, I GIVE YOU… THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!"_**

Duncan felt the blaster handle holstered at his hip. Finally. Now that the Duel Ring had some rookie meat in it he could climb up past his last place ranking. He'd finally be _better_ than somebody for once. He could probably just charge the new guy with his vibroblade drawn… maybe scream a war cry or something… heh… make the rookie wet his pants, probably. Duncan slid the sword from it's sheathe, pulling it slowly out to the front of him. He glanced at the Stranger across the ring. What he saw struck him as disturbingly odd.

            The Stranger wasn't moving. The guy was just standing there… arms crossed. He wasn't even drawing a weapon. What the hell was he doing? Duncan worried about it for a while before the answer came to him, and when it did, Duncan shook his head. Poor guy… frozen with fear. Well, some people had the balls for the sport and some didn't.

            _Man…_ Duncan thought. _It's going to feel so good to finally beat somebody_.

            Duncan broke out running, his feet slamming hard on the arena's metal floor. The repeated slap of his boots bringing him ever closer to his prey. As Duncan neared the target, he raised the vibroblade high above his head. The Stranger remained motionless, his white eyes burning into Duncan. Duncan's brain snapped away from the battle.

            White eyes? That was impossible… there was no way…

            Just as quickly, Deadeyes mind was yanked back into the ring as he was hurled forward, the Stranger had moved to the side, his foot just clipping Duncan's ankle.

            Deadeye's shoulder slammed into the cold ground. He skidded to a stop next to the arena wall, his vibroblade clattering to the ground a few feet away from him. Dumb rookie. As Duncan began to push himself up, he felt something come up and hit his chest… hard, tossing him onto his back As Deadeye Duncan stared at the ceiling, the realization slowly crept into the corners of his mind.

            The rookie had kicked him. That had never happened to anyone before… not even Deadeye. It was an insult… that rookie was going to…

            The thoughts stopped as a black shoe pressed down on Duncan's throat, the Stranger's face staring coldly down on him. Duncan began to gasp in vain for breath.

            "Yield."

            Duncan did his best to choke the words out of his mouth.

            "I… yi… yield."

            The Stranger crouched down, his face almost touching Duncan's.

            "I'm sorry, Deadeye, but I can't here you. I don't think the crowd can, either."

            The shoe pressed down harder on his throat.

            "I YIELD… yield… please…" Duncan could no longer force the words out of his mouth. His lungs were screaming, crying for air. Then, like a gift from heaven, the pressure was gone. He turned over on his stomach, coughing, gasping… the muffled cries of the announcer barely registering in his ears.

            **_"…EVENT IN THE HISTORY OF THE DUEL! DEADEYE _****_DUNCAN_****_ BEATEN BY A WEAPONLESS ROOKIE! THIS IS ONE FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS, FOLKS! BUT IS THIS MORE THAN A SIMPLE DEADEYE FAILURE? COULD THIS MYSTERIOUS STRANGER BE FOR REAL?"_**

            --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            "You! What are you two still doing here? Didn't you get the deployment order?"

            Mesal glared at the troopers standing next to the Rodian bouncer. Typical incompetence. Order a troop deployment and where do they go? The Damn Cantina!

            "Well… we… ah…"

            "Just shut up before I kill the both of you. The only reason I haven't yet is because we need everybody we can get, even the pathetic slackers like you, sad as it makes me. Now get your sorry asses to the mission launch point before I make this incident official."

            "Uh… yes… yes sir."

            Mesal watched the two jog down the decaying corridor. He sighed inwardly. This job was hard enough without having to worry about pathetic wastes of soldiers like that. How did they ever make it into the Sith, anyway? Mesal took off after them. Best to make sure they didn't slink off again.           

            ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Bastila's footsteps echoed down the empty sewer ways, creating an eerie kind of ambience. Her… _rescuers_, for lack of a better word, followed behind her, silent. The Twi'Lek child had said she knew another way through to the lower city… past a Rancor and a swoop gang nest, of course. Nothing was ever easy. She looked back to make sure her new companions were keeping up. As she did, the child… Mission Vao… spoke up.

            "So… who was that guy? The one in the pod with you?"

            Bastila turned her head forward again, and kept walking.

            "That is none of your concern, child."

            "Child!? Listen, you ain't much older than me, missy! Just because your some Jedi doesn't mean you get to go and act all high and mighty! We saved your life, remember? You owe us _something_."

            Bastila stopped, turning to face her companions.

            "Saved my life? _Saved my life_? Is that what you call it? Hiding behind some rock and watching as my charge simply got up and left? Dragging me down into this decrepit hole as far away from him as I can possible get, and then telling me the only way back up is through a Rancor infested cavern and a nest of violent, dim-witted swoop racers, both of which will consume so much time and energy that my charge will be long off world before I even reach the surface. _That_ is your idea of a rescue?"

            Bastila whirled around and stormed ahead through the sewers. Mission stood dumbfounded. Behind her, Zaalbar let out a low moan.

            "You can say that again, Big Z."


	6. Blood and Honor

_Author's Note: I really don't like this chapter for some reason, but after tinkering, and tinkering, rewriting and rewriting, I still wasn't happy with it. I decided I'd made you guys wait an incredibly long time already, so I posted what I had. Did I do the right thing? I guess we'll know soon enough. On another note, since it takes me so bloodylong to update this thing, I decided to dedicate a page (of my amazing an hilarious site) to this fanfic, updated with my progress at least once a week, so you know it isn't dead. _Check out the rest of the site while you're there. It's just totally-freaking-awesome.

* * *

Chapter 6: Blood and Honor

The crowed roared louder as Ice slammed into the arena wall, her body falling limply to the cold metal floor.

"**_Another amazing victory for the Mysterious Stranger!"_**

Revan turned away from his latest victim as the announcer's hackneyed praise boomed out over the steady rumble of cheering fans. He had had such high hopes for this one, too. She seemed to him the only real killer in this entire menagerie of hack jobs the Tarisian's laughingly called duelists.

Already the rumors about his origins were flying around the cantinas. Theories ranging from the ridiculous (He was an android created by the Exchange as means of rigging dueling bets) to the disturbingly accurate (He was a Dark Jedi from the orbiting Sith fleet). The duel ring was a necessary evil, considering the cash assets he would require, but his fame was becoming dangerous.

As the Stranger stepped into the darkness of the challenger exit, one man sat calmly amidst the still roaring crowd. He fingered the steel saber hilt tucked neatly into his belt loop.

"Now that's interesting."

------------------------------------------------------------

The vibroblade made a wrenching squeal as Bastila pried it loose from the Gamorrean's skull. As it jerked up to eye level, Bastila saw the thick, dark liquid running down the blade's reflective steel. There was something alluring about it… something beautiful that Bastila had never quite seen before. The way it slid so smoothly down the metal, spreading until it reached the very end of the blade, then dripping off the edge with an ethereal shimmer and splashing unto the grime of the sewer floor.

"Are you okay?"

Bastila reared back, nearly dropping the vibroblade.

"A-Absolutely. I assume you two survived in one piece?"

"You're kidding, right? Those Gamorreans are all a few stars short of a galaxy if they think they can ambush a Wookie, a Jedi, and the famous Mission Vao and live to tell their sows about it."

"Good." Bastila wiped the vibroblade off on the Gamorrean's leather shirt.

"We should hurry. The sooner we reach the surface, the better."

Mission and Zaalbar hurried off down the southern passage towards the Rancor lair. Bastila lingered, eyeing the devastation they had wrought on the Gamorrean ambush.

"I only hope we're not too late."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Horte slumped over the counter, drowning out the rapid techno music and pulsing strobe lights the permeated the small bar as he ordered another round. The Vulkars had really been going downhill since Brejik had taken over. He could never admit his feelings, of course, but they were there, nonetheless, and no matter how much he drank, they didn't go away. He sloshed the newly opened bottle, watching some of his Tarisian Ale spill over unto the counter. It hadn't always been like this. They had been a real gang, once. One with honor and morals, tradition and discipline. Horte took another gulp, hoping to find the courage to leave this nightmare lurking somewhere at the bottom of the bottle.

A small tremor rumbled through the bar, something Horte _felt_ rather than heard. Hearing anything would have been impossible over the raging pandemonium some fool had decided to call music. He looked around the bar. No one else seemed to have noticed. Either that or they were all too drunk to care. Setting the bottle back down, Horte began to rise from his seat. Something wasn't right. The bar's northern door slid open just as Horte lifted himself from the barstool. A combination of shock and paralyzing fear overcame him as he watched the Sith troopers opened fire. A bouncer droid behind him exploded as he dove to the ground. There was chaos as Vulkars scrambled for cover, many falling dead to the floor around him, too slow to dodge the blaster fire.

The Sith troopers charged through the room to the southern exit, joining with the fire team that had circled around from the other side. The automatic door closed behind them, strobe lights still pulsing over the bodies of the dead.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Marl swung the double-bladed sword forward for the umpteenth time, the Stranger dodging just out of its reach for umpteenth time. That's enough. Thought Marl. I've got him where I want him. He won't be expecting something different. The veteran duelist began the same slicing motion that had used since the start of the fight and, on cue, the Stranger began his backward dodge. Halfway through the motion, Marl lunged, bringing the other end of his swallow to bear against the stranger's exposed flank. The blade's motion slowed as it cut into flesh, creating a shocked gasp from the Stranger. Overconfidence. Marl had seen it a hundred times before. He's won all his previous fights so easily, he really wasn't expecting anything more than a tired old man.

The Stranger staggered backwards, his eyes screaming outrage. Marl pressed the attack. Before the Stranger had time to collect his senses, Marl thrust the blade up and forward, aiming for his opponents chest. The Stranger dove sideways, barely dodging the driving blade. It was a pure reflex save. Marl knew. He had seen them a hundred times before. Above the arena floor, in sold out stands, the fans stood in hushed silence as the blood from their champion dripped down Marl's blade. The Stranger was mortal, after all. As Marl pulled back from the follow through, the Stranger's boot slammed into his right temple, nearly knocking him over. A gloved hand wrapped itself over his face, pulling Marl's head back as the knee connected with his back, dislocating his spine. He fell helpless to the ground. A sharp pain erupted through his side as the Stranger kicked him, cracking three of his ribs.

Revan stood over his latest conquest, stolen swallow poised to slice the old man's jugular vein if he so much as coughed.

**_"It's_** **_just one more incredible victory after another for the Mysterious Stranger, folks! Marl is down, and questions abound! Can no one stop the raging storm of the Stranger? Twitch is waiting in the wings, Stranger, are you ready for the challenge?"_**

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Brejik! Brejik!"

The Twi'lek burst into the garage where the Vulkar leader had been admiring his new accelerator. The fact that he had stolen it from that pompous old windbag Gadon Thek made his upcoming victory in the Taris Opener all the sweeter. If only he had an appropriately lavish prize to offer up…

"What is it, you worthless marsh toad? You _know_ I hate to be disturbed."

"Sorry Brejik, but we've got some serious problems. There's been an attack…"

Brejik frowned.

"So deal with them. We all knew the Beks would try to get their gadget back one way or another. Besides, we outnumber them ten to one. Gadon was foolish to try a frontal assault."

"It's not… It's not the Beks, it's…"

Another explosion ripped through the levels above them, followed by the steady drone of blaster fire, and the screams of the dying.

"It's the Sith."

Brejik's eyes grew wide with terror. The Sith? Here? Now?

There was an ominous drone as the service elevator rumbled down to the garage.


	7. Wheels and Deals

In Darkest Night

Chapter Seven: Wheels and Deals

"_Mysterious Stranger is the perfect name for you. Makes people think you've got some deep dark secret."_

--Ajuur the Hutt

* * *

"Two thousand credits? Do you think I'm stupid?"

Ajuur sent a bowl of spice crashing to the dingy metal floor.

"There's no way you're getting two thousand credits out of me, even if it is Starkiller. I could have you killed for arrogance like that. If I gave you even half of that for a fight everyone would be on me like a pack of rakgouls with their demands for larger cuts."

"There will be no demands."

The Stranger stood motionless, his arms crossed.

"This is not a normal fight. This is not a fight you will ever get the chance to arrange again. Two thousand credits is a small price to ask, considering the profit you stand to make in return. Besides…"

The Stranger turned to leave, throwing a final glance over his shoulder.

"You don't have to pay me if I loose. You'll never have to worry about paying me ever again."

He was making his way to the door when a low grumble from the Hutt stopped him. Again he glanced over his shoulder. That was far quicker than he had expected.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Ajuur seemed to stare at a space above the Stranger's head.

"No weapons."

The Hutt's eyes narrowed as he recited the rules for this particular bout.

"No weapons. Period. You don't use your own weapons, you don't take his weapons. You don't use grenades, you don't use stim packs, and you don't take any medkits with you. You can punch him, and you can kick him. That's all. You do that- You kill him like that, and then you'll get your two thousand credit prize."

The Stranger only smiled.

* * *

The rancor's breath came out in hot, humid blasts, the stench almost causing Mission to gag. Years of being around Zaalbar had given her a good immunity to most of the smells other people seemed to complain about, but she had never gotten used to Rancor breath. She slipped the fragmentation grenade from her pocket, and looked for the best place to apply it. In the movies, the hero always tossed in the rancor's mouth, or tricked the monster into eating it, or waited until it howled or had already started chewing on them.

Nobody in the movies ever ran into a sleeping Rancor, though. A little surprising, since it seemed a naturally tense situation.

_So._

Mission thought.

_No getting it into the mouth._

She glanced around the creature's head.

_Guess any hole will do._

With that, Mission pulled the pin, and shoved the grenade into the rancor's nose.

* * *

Two Sith troopers, their chrome armor gleaming in the artificial light, crouched on either side of the open doorway, their backs to the wall. In the hallway outside, the Sith captain was in the middle of an operational overview with some of the troopers..

"The top level is secure. We lost some men to the blaster turrets, and we're encountering some resistance around the garage, but we should be in full control of this facility within thirty minutes."

The Captain seemed almost relieved.

"Good. Remember, we need Brejik alive, so don't get too trigger happy down there. Once you've got him, radio in and we'll pull out to the surface. I don't want to stick around too long. If we're still here when word of this gets out, we'll have one hell of a firefight on our hands when the other swoop gangs mobilize to help out their martyred comrades."

The Captain swiveled his head as a muffled explosion was set off somewhere outside the base.

"What… We don't have any men outside!"

He un-holstered his blaster and signaled the troopers.

"Come on! If they've already started a counter attack we're all in serious trouble."

The officer charged down the hall towards the back entrance, a squad of Sith troopers in tow.

The two troopers still crouched inside the pool room listened as the footfalls faded off into the distance until the only noise came from the distant exchange of blaster fire taking place below. One of them began to unfastened the seals that held the menacing Sith helmet in place.

"So now what?"

Carth finished the last of the seals and let the helmet drop heavily to the ground.

"I don't know. I'd rather not stick around, but I think this raid probably has something to do with Bastila, and if it does, sticking around might be in our best interest. At least then we'll know what they know."

"What?" Trask's voice emanated from the jet black visor.

"What makes you think this has anything to do with Bastila?"

Carth stole a quick glance outside the doorway to ensure there were no unpleasant surprised sneaking up on them.

"Think about it. Why else would the Sith even come down here? What's important enough for them to bother with a bunch of street gangs? It has to be about Bastilla. Maybe she's here. Maybe the Vulkar's took her prisoner and now the Sith are here to get her back. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

Trask shook his head.

"That's a bit of a long shot, Carth. How would a street gang even capture a Jedi in the first place? Especially one like Bastila."

"I don't know, maybe there were extenuating circumstances. Look, whatever's going on here, it ha-"

The vent grating on the opposite side of the pool hit the cement with a soft clatter, halting Carth in the middle of his sentence. She dropped deftly from the vents opening, landing without a sound, most of her figure masked in darkness.

"Carth Onasi." came the voice. "Finally things are starting to look up."

* * *

Canderous Ordo had been on Taris for almost a month, and he detested it more every day. The rich on top, the poor being crushed beneath them, and people like him, trying to make a living doing the crushing. Protection, extortion, occasionally smacking some of the swoop gangs back into place when they got too full of themselves… it was busy work, nothing more, and he hated it. The man who had fought in the Mandalorian Wars, the man who had led entire fleets into battle, the man who helped bring the Republic to its knees, was pushing around debtors in a backwater city on the outer rim of the galaxy. After the Mandalorian's surrender, Canderous had plied his trade as a mercenary, offering his considerable talents to the highest bidder, and since Mandalorians were still feared, despite their defeat, he found himself nearly drowned with contracts. They were hardly difficult assignments, but they were better than these tiresome chores. Davik had promised him a fortune to come to Taris, and promised him a challenging job suitable to his level of skill. It had been almost a month, and there was no further mention of this suitable job, and lately, Davik hadn't been paying him what he had promised. Canderous didn't like being cheating. He finished the last of his drink, setting the empty glass on the cantina table. With a single, smooth motion, he slid the other full glass across the table to the Mysterious Stranger.

"Stranger, I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse."


	8. Sith Invasion

_Chapter 8_

_Sith Invasion _

_"Working for Davik was like driving a spike through the side of your head... Sure you get something new in there, but in the end, you've lost something as well."_

-Canderous Ordo

The long, linear section of skywalk that stretched towards the military base lay abandoned. Most of the Sith ground forces were dedicated to scouring the surface of the planet for Bastilla, leaving their primary base of operations manned by nothing more than security droids and a skeleton crew of maintenance personnel. Revan stood just outside the deserted front door, checking the patrol schedules one last time on his stolen datapad.

"Beep-Be-Boop."

He looked down at the Astromech droid rattling excitedly at his feet. He'd taken it from a local droid vender just down the street under the advice of Canderous. The droid was a custom job, evidently designed for no other purpose than to crack through the forward security of the Sith military base. It had been ordered by Davik Kang, the local crime lord, who was being slowly crushed under the weight of the Sith quarantine, his slave and spice shipments drying up before his eyes. Revan had learned this from Canderous Ordo, information in exchange for a service rendered, a service that would benefit both their ends.

"Start."

The T3-M4 rolled forward towards the security door, security tunneler spinning. Revan slid the datapad into his jacket's inside pocket and waited for the droid to finish.

"Be-Be-Bop-Boop."

The droid was making small talk.

"It's fine. Concentrate your work."

"Be-Bop-Bee."

"I don't care. Hurry up."

"Be-Bip-Boop."

"You'd be a lousy conversationalist too, if you were in my position."

There was a whirr as the massive steel doors slid open, the droid pulling back and buzzing.

"Good job. Follow me in and get ready."

"Beep."

"That's the spirit."

Revan passed into the cold, utilitarian lobby of the recently commandeered Sith military base. The Twi'Lek secretary looked up from her computer screen. She was young, with a face more than a few men would die for. According to the base's personnel file, her name was Nataya Kynnie, a local girl that the Sith kept on staff after their takeover. Easier then training someone who didn't know the system. Revan raised the pistol and fired, catching her just above the eye.

"Her station should have access to the rest of the network. Take down all the security droids you can, lock all the doors I don't need, and bring the cameras offline."

The T3 droid clicked as it rolled past the girl's corpse.

"I'll signal you once I've got what I need."

Revan disappeared through one of the base's inner security doors.

The base was nearly deserted, just as he'd planned. He made his way through the twisting, brightly lit corridors. The security droids were hunched over and lifeless, deactivated by the T3-M4 during their endless patrols. He came at last to a large double door. According to Canderous, the launch codes he needed would be in the Governor's office, just beyond. His communicator echoed a series of mechanical blips. A warning from the Astromech. Revan listened, watching the doors hiss open on their own.

The room was filled with tri-legged mechanical monster, bristling with weapons and flanked on either side by stationary gun emplacements. He smiled at the camera hanging limply in the corner. There was a roar as the robot fired, tearing the floor open as Revan leapt clear, his feet landing deftly on the corridor wall for a but a moment before he launched himself back into the air, power flying from his fingertips. The droid staggered backwards on failing legs as its main capacitor exploded from the overload and lightning surged around it. Its memory module shorted as it hit the ground, discharging into the nearby blaster turrets.

Shouts were coming from down the hall, maintenance crews investigating the noise just finding out now that they were entombed, locked away by their own security protocols. Revan raised the beeping communicator, the recently dead still vomiting sparks.

"No, I'm fine. See if you can have the base ready to go into a full lockdown by the time we leave. Reactivate the droids and have them shoot on sight. It should delay any of their attempts at pursuit."

There was an elevator door at the end of the room, but no governor's office. Revan slipped in at ordered the car down. It was refreshing to fight a battle again, even one so effortless. He hadn't been in real personal combat since the Jedi stormed the Sithari and Malak finally broke his leash. That had been almost a year ago. Lights flashed over the descending elevator. It had been the longest year of his life. The indignity. The stagnation. The _mercy_ of the council. Death would have been a mercy, not twelve months in a deprivation cell listening to that idiot girl try and pry the secrets of the Sith war machine from him. He'd toyed with her while she was in his mind, creating false fears and memories, playing on what she expected to find, and more importantly, what she didn't. He painted himself as both victim and villain, a misunderstood hero who was not so far from the light. She saw these things and sympathized. The more she saw, the more she thought was real. She pitied him and what the Mandalorians had done to a once great man. That was how he'd gained her trust, enough to let him out of his cell against the protests of the other Jedi onboard the doomed Republic ship. She was too sure of herself to listen to those older and wiser than she. Pride was her failing and he had used it like a craftsman.

He'd been free no more than a week before the Sith attacked the Endar Spire, presenting him with the perfect opportunity to escape. Their pod had crashed deep in the Undercity of Taris, and he left her unconscious in the escape pod, broken and used, just as she'd intended to use him. The elevator doors slid open into the governor's office. It was an impressive height. The smooth, concrete walls were nearly covered with computers, panels and screens. At the front of the office was a desk that faced the wall, and a massive viewscreen attached to the base's central computer.

He rummaged through the hard copies of documents and files inside the desk. It was doubtful that the launch codes would just be sitting there, but it was better to have all your bases covered before you tackled the more difficult rout.

Revan stood before the viewscreen, his fingers dancing over the main computers keypad. If the launch codes were anywhere on the system, they'd be heavily encrypted and underneath layer after layer of blanket and specialized security caches. Unless Malak had decided to change the protocol to a less secure system, which, despite Malak's incompetence, was doubtful. He flipped on the communicator.

"I'm going to need you down here at the main computer. There shouldn't be anything in your way but time is ever a factor if we want this to go off without a hitch."

Revan tapped his foot as he waited for the droid to respond.

"T3, this is the Stranger, are you still on the line?"

He shut down the computer and turned to head back to the lobby. There was a crash as pieces of charred and broken metal scattered across the tiled floor of the office, some of them still stamped with an Astromech designation.

"Looking for this?"


	9. Protection

Chapter 9: Protection

The shooting had progressed from the upper levels of the Vulkar base, through the swoop bike maintenance garage and finally outside the very doors of Brejik's office before the gunfire fell silent and the Sith troopers swarmed into their positions. Brejik sat at his desk, calmly going over the damage estimates his accountant had just provided him. The accountant's hands trembled as he held out another datapad for Brejik to examine. Brejik took it and waved the man off.

"You look terrible, Saijad. Grab some ale from the bar there and take the rest of the day off. You're going to have a lot of work to do, soon, if these are any indication."

The woman sitting across from Brejik's desk stared blankly at the door, almost like a statue. The shouts of the Sith troopers on the other side of the blast door could be heard, angry and fierce. Brejik tapped the woman on the shoulder, a datapad in each of his hands.

"Showtime for you. I don't want to sound picky, but if you could keep most of the bloodshed outside my office, I'd certainly appreciate it. I've got enough to worry about, here."

The woman shook her head.

"You take this so lightly."

"Why shouldn't I? After this, you can finish looking for your Jedi, the Vulkars will become a legend for fighting the Sith invasion and winning, the Hidden Beks will desert, and the Sith will get sent running home with a black eye the size of a proton missile core. Everybody wins."

Light from the arc welders flashed through the office's blast door. The woman stood, her robe a dusty brown. A small, half smile was on her lips.

"And I thought you hid me out of charity."

"I'm a nice guy, Jaia, but I'm not stupid. If Konoc'len's still alive send him down here on your way out."

In the hallway, the Sith technician began setting the remote mines along the blast door that lead into Brejik's office. The door had already been torched open, but blast from one of the lighter demolition packs was needed to move that much steel out of the way. The mine flashed briefly in front of him before letting out a satisfying beep. He reached into his bag and pulled out another mine. One would probably do, but it was better safe than sorry. The rest of the squad stood back, waiting for the breach to open. Celke set the second mine against the broken steel door, feeling to make sure it had taken hold. As he armed it for detonation, there was a scream of metal striking metal as the door was thrown forwards into the hallway wall, Celke barely having time to cry out before he was crushed between them. An instant later, the impact set off the armed explosives set against the door.

Sith troopers fell back along the corridor, training their rifles on the swirling dust. Slowly, grainy and distorted, a blue light became visible in the distance, moving towards them through the dust. The troopers screamed as they were suddenly pulled towards the whirling light. One level above them, Bastila crouched with Carth behind a pile of debris on the far side of the poolroom while Trask stood guard just inside the door, still in full Sith uniform. The upper level was mostly deserted now, the Vulkars dead and most of the Sith fighting down below. The rear guard was collected inside the old swoop gang's barracks and sentries still patrolled the halls. There was little chance of sneaking out unnoticed or of overpowering the soldiers that had stayed behind.

"Mission has volunteered to set a diversion that should pull away most of the soldiers on this level. Once she's done we can hurry out the back way and into the sewers. It won't be pretty but it's the safest way."

"Hold on, _who_'s setting the diversion?"

"A Twi'Lek girl, Mission Vao, but that's hardly important, Carth."

"If you say so. What's our signal to vamoose?"

Bastila lifted her head above the rubble, eyeing Trask and the unlocked security door.

"I… I imagine we'll know it when we see it."

"You didn't plan that little bit out? You're kidding me."

She lowered herself once more behind the protective barricade.

"I had more important things to worry about, Carth. Before you criticize my methods, I'd like to know how was dressing up and hiding in an abandoned poolroom intended to further our escape in any way?"

"Nails out tonight?"

"I just think that-"

She was interrupted by a crackling that came from the Sith helmet beside Carth's feet. There was an emergency situation inside the Vulkar base. A Jedi matching Bastila's description had been located. The Governor was on his way. Trask grabbed at his helmet's speaker and glanced over at Bastila and Carth. They had heard. Outside their door, the sounds of fighting suddenly erupted. Trask pressed himself against the wall, straining to listen. Blaster fire. The crash of a lightsaber. More firing. Screams cut short. Something hitting the ground. Cries inside his helmet. An explosion. Cursing. Another crash. Silence. Bastila was walking towards the opening security door, vibroblade drawn. The other side was a maze of smaller rooms, their doors broken open and littered with corpses, both Sith and Vulkar. Jaia stood alone in the hallway, saber glowing at her side and a Sith corpse at her feet. Her head jerked up towards the sound of the door.

"Bastila!"

"Jaia! I thought we'd lost you! Where's…"

The older Jedi sighed.

"He's dead, Bastila. He died on the Endar Spire."

"Oh… I'm…"

"It wasn't your fault, there was nothing you could have done about the attack. The important thing is that you and…" Her voice trailed as she eyed the chrome man emerging from the shadows behind them.

"Trask Ulgo, I'm with the Republic."

"Yes… yes, of course. Where…" Her attention focused again on Bastila. "Where is… _he_?"

"We were… separated, in the crash."

Jaia's heart sank, despair replacing her all too brief hope.

"He is free, then."

"No, he… may have been captured… after…"

She shook her head. "Bastila…" It was a condemnation, a reprimand and a question all in one. Around the corner, a young Twi'Lek appeared, beckoning the group, and stopping when she saw the bodies.

"Whoa…"

Trask turned his head towards Jaia, rifle slung under his arm.

"We'd better get going before the governor shows up."

"The… governor is here?" Jaia sounded almost alarmed.

"That's what we've been lead to believe, anyway."

Jaia glanced back at the base's main entrance.

"Bastila, you go on with the others. I'm going to stay behind."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're coming with us."

The governor is going to sense your power, Bastila, he may already sense it now. Your survival is nearly as critical to the Republic as… his recapture… and the only way you will be able to escape here without the governor's notice is if he is already occupied with me." The forward blast door of the Vulkar base began to screech open. "GO!"

The governor adjusted his collar as the crimson armor of the Sith commandos rushed past him into the wasteland of bodies covering the main entrance of the base.

"Sector one, clear!"

"Sector three, clear!"

The governor bent down and lifted a severed, chrome arm from the ground, examining the already cauterized edge.

"Sector seven, cl- Hostile! Hostile!"

Commandos backed quickly into the main entrance, rifles trained on the northern doorway. The governor looked up at the Jedi walking calmly into the room. He smiled as he tossed the arm aside.

"Hold your fire."

The rifles remained trained on the young woman, the men shuffling back to give her room. As she approached, the governor's smile faded.

"All this effort, and I thought it was Bastilla." He said, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Akon."

"You're only a minor disappointment, Jaia. The Jedi are still treating you well, I hope?"

"Extremely well. It's a shame you aren't there anymore, to be honest."

"The absence would explain why you're loosing." All these years with the Sith and he hadn't lost his sense of humor. Jaia was almost amazed.

"I don't believe you, Akon. Still making quips?"

"What can change the nature of a man?"

"I've always thought 'the Sith' would have been the answer to that."

Akon chuckled. "Oh, Jaia, I have missed you. I don't suppose it would be any good to try and twist you into the dark side, would it?" Jaia shook her head.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Akon."

The governor smiled again, suddenly cold and hard.

"It's only a minor disappointment, Jaia." The vibroblade slashed towards her, missing her dodge by centimeters. Her saber flashed, crashing against the cortosis weave of Akon's double bladed sword. He shoved her back, thrusting his hand towards her chest. Her lungs erupted with pain, sending her staggering backwards, a coughing fit welled up in her throat. His sword blurred. She steadied herself and reflected his blows, but her parries were slow, almost clumsy. There was too much pain. He was backing her into a corner, now. Jaia fought through the pain, her training taking over, moving her body automatically. She stopped falling back and began matching Akon blow for blow, battling him to a standstill in the middle of a concrete tomb. There was a pause in the fighting. The governor smiled at her, an old fire in his eyes. He launched himself into an offense, his blows coming faster and faster, too swift, too coordinated. Jaia was thrown back, nearly against the wall. In an instant there was a gash on her arm, then another, then one on her shoulder, one on her leg. He was toying with her. A sudden, powerful slash of steel. Jaia landed against the wall, feeling the blood swell down her neck, seeping into her robe. Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the ground. A lightsaber hilt rolled across the concrete floor. She could sense the man near her as the world faded into grays.

_Oh, Akon._

The vibroblade came down on the base of her skull.

Brejik sat at his desk, examining the last of the estimates, this one taking into account the surplus that would be given from salvage of the Sith equipment. Saijad was sitting on the couch, an empty bottle of Tarisian Ale still clutched in his hands. The footsteps that had been coming down the hall were through the doorway, now.

"Oh, good. Konoc'len, I'm glad you made it down. Listen, I'm going to need to get a line straight to Davik, he's sure to want first dibs on some of this stuff and we're going to need to sell it quick, if-"

Blood had begun to drip over his expense reports. He glanced up at the head of Jaia Oeland bleeding on his desk. The governor stood over him, flanked on either side by crimson suits of armor.

"Hello, Brejik."

Brejik's eyes widened.

"No need to get up. I was wondering if you could help me? You see, I'm looking for someone named Bastila Shan. It's rather important that I find her."

"I… I don't… I don't know anything-"

"I know, Brejik. I also know that this is still going to hurt very, very much."


	10. Bondage

(Author's Note: It has been at least a few years since I've worked on this story, but I started replaying KOTOR recently, so I thought, you know, why not? There's probably some minor continuity errors with previous chapters just given the time difference, but I tried to keep it pretty consistent. Anyway, I thought returning to this story would be a fun way to blow off some steam from my other serious writing projects and I think some of you would like if I updated it a LITTLE MORE FREQUENTLY so since I've got quite a bit of free time the next while, I'm going to start updating it regularly again!)

**Chapter 10**

**Bondage**

There was an explosion of sparks and a dying, electronic scream as the Governor smashed into the massive viewscreen overlooking his office. He hung there for a moment, glass spinning through the air around him, before he was ripped downward, slamming into ground and shattering the polished ceramic tile. Bits of glass and debris fell gently around him. He groaned as he pulled himself to his knees, clothes soaked in blood from injuries he could only begin to imagine. With effort, he looked up at his assailant in time to witness the surge of lightning arcing through the air. It danced across the office, a constant stream of destruction and pain that he writhed in the center of. Even as he screamed, he was lifted into the air once more.

"Look at you. Such a waste of human life. You could have been a bouncer or a..." There was a pause, one the Governor would have noticed were he not screaming in agony. "...well, you could have been a bouncer. Maybe a sandperson." The lightning stopped, and Akon hung limply, suspended in the air. He coughed once, blood escaping his lips in a sudden gush. The intruder stood in the ruined office of the planetary governor, smoke from damaged terminals curling at his feet. Red jacket. Black gloves. Brown pants. Spacer drek. One arm was extended toward him, hand open. The man turned his head, examining the Governor before he finished. "...but instead you chose to be a failure. Why would you do that? Think of all the rabble that are going to get into clubs now because you decided to try and play at being a Sith."

The governor groaned, a single question burned into his fading mind.

"What... _are_ you?"

"A real one. Obviously." The man closed his fist, and the governor's spine snapped backwards against itself, his lifeless body dropping to the broken ground.

Revan lowered his arm, glancing about the battered remains of the office. That had been fun, in a way. Wasteful, inefficient, but... invigorating. He had the codes he required, and the base was now, for all intents and purposes, empty. He turned to leave through the badly broken door, pausing to look behind him. He stared at the floor a few moments before sighing. The Dark Lord of the Sith returned to the office, knelt down, and began picking up the scattered pieces of the utility droid.

---

The Sith uniforms lay empty in the corner of the abandoned apartment, their former occupants now engaged in a heated argument with the hero of the republic.

"We _have_ to leave! There's a Sith fleet orbiting the planet looking for you and there's an entire _army_ tearing the city apart to do the same thing! Did you notice them? They're the ones in the chrome armor. You know, shooting at us all the time."

"Show some respect to your superiors, Carth!" Bastila nearly yelled, slamming her open hand on the table. The most important, most critical mission of her entire life and she had failed, more than she had ever thought possible. Revan was free, loose in a city the size of a planet. The ship escorting them had been destroyed. Its crew was dead. The Jedi who had been onboard, her friends... all dead. She was alone now, alone except for her failure, a walking, sadistic force conduit, and a war hero who did not and could not be allowed to understand what had happened.

"With respect, _ma'am_." Carth leaned over the table. "I don't remember anyone putting you in charge of this mission. If there's some secret Jedi bullshit about how you can't leave unless it's a full moon then you've got to at least tell me. I'm trying to save your life, Bastila, cut me a little slack here."

"We..." Bastila stopped, glancing away from the Republic war hero.

"Carth's right, Bastila. We need to get off Taris before the Sith find you. You're the entire war effort anymore, the Republic needs you." Trask said. He was seated next to Carth, street clothes thrown over his battle armor. The apartment was dingy and poorly lit, a single window looking out onto the Taris skyline. Mission Vao leaned against it, eyes wide. The Sith fleet hung in the sky over the city, a blanket of steel that stretched almost across the horizon. She had never seen the upper city, never truly believed that the great buildings stopped. There was a low growl behind her, and she frowned without turning.

"It's not that great. Just a bunch of rich, boring snops in a bunch of ugly buildings under a bunch of ugly sky. And a bunch of Sith. You know if they all opened fire right now, the upper city would be toast. That'd show the whole bunch of them, stupid bantha brains."

Zaalbar looked up, making a brief whine.

"I'm not upset, I'm just saying they'd have it coming." She turned away from the window, walking past the wookie and throwing her hands in the air. "Stupid upper-city _snots_!"

She hopped onto one of the tables swivel chairs, pushing the floor with her feet and spinning in a circle.

"Are we doing something yet? Zaalbar's getting bored and believe me, you don't want to see a bored wookie." She talked as she spun, another low whine coming from across the room. "You are too bored, don't you sass me."

"We're trying, Mission. Could you just settled down?" Carth asked plaintively as she unleashed a loud, lingering groan. He turned back to the jedi, who was finally prepared with a statement.

"You have a mission to protect me, I have no wish to dissuade you from that. But I have a mission as well, and though you may find it difficult to believe, it does _not_ involve my safety. The entire galaxy, the entire war is at stake, yes, but for different reasons than the ones you believe. If I fail, if we leave this planet as it is, my battle meditation will mean nothing, and we, all of us, will have doomed the galaxy." She stood with one hand upon the battered table, the other clenching by her waist. Dust from the decaying apartment floated past her, illuminated by light from the single window. Carth sat speechless for a moment before raising an eyebrow.

"...Alright, Bastila. We'll do it your way. But you've got to tell me why we're dooming the galaxy if we don't. I'm trusting that this isn't just some force hyperbole."

"No, Carth." She said, slipping slowly back into her seat. Mission had stopped spinning and was now staring at her in disbelief, arms braced against the table.

"...Wow." The twi'lek almost whispered. "Is it your boyfriend?"

Bastila blinked, her confusing lagging a moment before she turned to the young girl.

"My... what?" She asked.

"The guy who was in the escape pod with you." Mission said, tilting her head. "Me and Zalbaar were going to offer to help him out of the undercity, but, you know, he seemed like he could handle himself alright."

A loud roar erupted from the corner of the room, the wookie's head tilting upwards as he watched his partner.

"Yeah, and he was scary lookin'." Mission confirmed.

"Mission's right, he's what this is all about, isn't he?" Carth said, looking back towards Bastila.

"You never did say what he was doing on the ship, ma'am." Trask said, resting his arms on the aging table. "Or who he is."

"If he's really this important, we need to know what we're dealing with." Carth said. "And don't feed me any of your lines about 'classified' or 'need to know'. _We_ need to know, and you owe us that much."

"Well..." Bastila glanced towards the ceiling, stalling for time like a child. "...It's complicated."

---

The speeder was waiting on the edge of the skyway, Canderous sitting calmly in the driver's seat. Like a shadow, the Mysterious Stranger appeared from the empty walkway, dropping a large bag into the back with a clang and climbing into the passenger's seat.

"Quite a show in the Sith base, I hear." Canderous said, pulling away from the platform and back onto the skyway. The Mysterious Stranger leaned backwards, resting an arm on the side of the car.

"Quite a show indeed." He replied. "I assume you received the codes."

"I did." Canderous said. "What's in the sack?"

"Davik's droid. Turns out a Sith apprentice won't end up on the losing end of a fight with a utility droid. Will wonder's never cease."

"You didn't have to save it. Now that he thinks he's got the launch codes, Davik won't mind the loss, it wasn't that expensive."

"Actually, it was free." The Stranger glanced at Canderous. "But it's not for him. We're going to be spending a lot of time in hyperspace and I may need a project."

"So you work on droids?"

"As a hobby."

"Any good at it?" The speeder rushed past one of the lower city parking sections, blaster fire pouring across the skyway as Sith troopers advanced against a desperately entrenched swoop gang. The Stranger smiled at Canderous, a small, somehow deeply unsettling gesture.

"Oh, I'm the best."

The speeder zipped to the right, taking a heavily neglected tunnel that twisted upwards, back towards the skyline. Canderous glanced to the left, a squadron of Sith fighters swooping under the skyway.

"Remember..." He said. "Just act natural when we get to the estate. Davik needs to believe I think you've got what it takes to work for the Exchange."

"But how ever will I ever live up to your recruiting standards? The Exchange, my word, what a bastion of talent."

"Yeah, just talk exactly like that, except pretend you mean it, and we should be fine. First chance we get, we'll take the Ebon Hawk right out from under his nose and get off this forsaken rock."

"Small amendment to that." The Stranger lifted his hands above his head, stretching. "In between escaping the planet and blasting off into the happily ever after, I need you to stop on the Leviathan."

Canderous frowned, twisting his head towards his business partner.

"The Leviathan. You mean Malak's flagship? You want me to _stop_ there?"

"Just for a few minutes." The Stranger lowered his arms again, examining the worn gloves on his hand. "Long enough for me to kill Malak and take back my... well, my _everything_. After he's dead I'll let you skip off to... wherever it is Mandalorians go." The Stranger stared an Canderous incredulously. "...Tatooine?"

"You're crazy." Canderous' face was frozen in a mix of concern and surprise, and he was dimly aware that he was no longer watching the path in front of them. The Stranger raised his eyebrows.

"If you _want_..." He said, gesturing towards a growing gap between two of the massive buildings and a Sith capital ship hovering distantly beyond them. "...I could tear it out of the sky right now and save the both of us a trip, but I'd like to get it back in one piece." His brow furled suddenly, and he glanced at the dashboard. "...Although that would pay him back for destroying _my_ ship."

The speeder drifted to the right as the skyway twisted past a building, small section splitting off to reveal a very exclusive parking garage. Canderous pulled into the minor alcove, engine stalling before cutting out completely. He continued to stare at the Stranger, who seemed either unaware of this, or completely uncaring.

"Oh." He looked up, examining the tiny garage. "Servant's entrance, I take it? I'm sure the inside is very nice." The Stranger hopped out of the speeder, grabbing his bundle of droid parts from the back and slinging it over his shoulder. Canderous stepped out slowly, heading towards the elevator that would take them up to Davik's estate. He kept one eye on the Stranger.

"Let's... deal with the Leviathan when we come to it. Until then, remember, you want to-"

"I want to join the exchange, Davik you're so wonderful, I'm so honored I might get to punch old women and stand around your house snarling at your guests. Then I can get together with all the other guards and we can trade insults that involve 'pantha poodoo'. I've wanted to do this all my life. I have the brain of a gizka."

"If he shoots us both, I'm blaming you."

"If he gets the chance, you should."

---

Malak stood on the bridge of the Leviathan, the world of Taris spinning slowly beneath him. They had been searching for nearly a week, with no trace of Bastila, and now they were trapped in a running ground war with the lower city gangs. _Gangs_. And now there was word of an attack against their forward operations center, the Sith governor slain, launch codes stolen... if Bastila had not been behind their theft it would not be long before she found them. Or they found their way to her. If she was able to break through their blockade...

No.

It would not come to that.

"Kareth." He turned to his right, a Sith admiral approaching him and saluting.

"Yes, my lord?"

"The search for Bastila is taking too long. Destroy this planet."

The admiral was quiet for a moment, staring at the Sith Lord.

"Destroy... the entire planet." Saul Kareth repeated. "But... there are billions of people on Taris, not to mention our own men still on the surface, if we-"

"Your predecessor once questioned by orders, admiral. There was not an opening for your promotion without reason."

"I... yes, Lord Malak. I will begin the procedures at once." Saul Kareth turned and walked down the bridge, boots clanging against an otherwise silent deck. Malak folded his hands behind his back, otherwise unmoving as the Sith fleet began to reposition for bombardment.

---

"Bastila, look..." Carth was holding his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. "You've talked a whole lot about duty and necessity and the greater good but you haven't actually said who you need to protect or why they're so important. I don't mean to rush you, your highness, but if we could-"

"Hey!" Mission shouted from across the room. She pointed out towards the sky, staring at the others. "They're leaving!"

The room became a flurry of activity as three fully grown adults and a wookie scrambled to the one, tiny window to see where the twi'lek was pointing. The carpet of steel warships began had begun to ascend upwards, the Sith fleet disappearing above the clouds. Mission smiled.

"Well, that was lucky!"

Trask nodded, surprised but relieved at the Sith's apparent withdrawl. Cath backed slowly away from the window.

"Oh no..." His voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

"...oh no..."

---

"Ah, yes, now I recognize your friend." Davik Kang stood in the middle of his lounge, surrounded by guards and slaves. Canderous had introduced the Stranger, as well as a fairly accurate account of his exploits at the military base. "Most impressive, to say the least. The Exchange could use someone with your talents. You could have a bright future with our organization. Many would _kill_ for such a chance."

"High praise indeed, given the value of human life."

Davik frowned, studying the Stranger and trying to decide if he had just been insulted, or if it was a light hearted jest. He was also trying to decide if it mattered.

"Probably not the best example to use on a natural born killer, Davik."

"Perhaps not, but their value is far greater than their lack of social graces. Tell me, where did you acquire the skills you used against the Sith? One would assume it some type of military training."

"I fought in the Mandalorian wars under the Republic. Two tours. Canderous and I may have even been shooting at each other at one point."

"No kidding." Canderous raised a wary but eager eyebrow.

"Were you at Mal..." The Stranger trailed off, glancing around him.

"Everything alright?" Davik asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"No..." The Stranger replied. "...something's..."

A flash of red light the size of a building blew past the window, a sudden roar following almost immediately after. The estate shook, dust and debris flying up from the impact sight some blocks away. Davik stumbled backwards, a barrage of orbital lasers visible in the sky between the buildings.

"Damn Sith!" Davik shouted. "They're bombing the plan-"

He did not finish his sentence before he was pulled forward, and invisible force ripping him across the room and how the massive bay window of the lounge. A bounty hunter in a blue jacket and a white hat raised his pistols towards the Stranger before he slammed downward into the ground. He was lifted, immediately after, into the air, and tossed out the window Davik Kang had flown through. Two seconds after their crime lord had been sent sailing out the window, most of the guards had recovered from the dual shock of the Sith attack and the assassination to raise their rifles. As they did, the Stranger pulled a large cylinder from his pocket, and as they fired, his cylinder flashed yellow at both ends. The barrage of blaster fire was bet with a whirl of yellow, and a repeated volley as the blaster shots were directed back towards the gunmen. Four seconds after Davik Kang had been sent through his lounge window, the last his guards were dead.

The yellow beams slipped back into their hilt as the building shook with another explosion, the Sith bombardment increasing in volume. The Stranger began to run to Davik's hanger, yelling to Canderous as he moved. Seven seconds after Davik Kang had been sent through a window, the door to the lounge slid shut, and Canderous and the Stranger disappeared from view. Eight seconds afterward, the shock wore off, and the slaves began to scream.

The Ebon Hawk sat alone in its private hanger, as pristine as any sport racer Canderous had ever seen. The Stranger was already disappearing up the loading ramp, and Canderous followed soon after, another explosion nearly ripping the building apart.

"Anyone you want to save on Taris? Now's the last chance." Canderous said as the loading ramp closed behind him, the two running like mad to the ship's cockpit.

"No, we're leaving_ now_." The Stranger replied, jumping into the pilot's seat. The engines whined as the ship lifted away from the hanger and slid carefully away from the building, landing gear retracting into its belly. An orbital laser blasted just above the hanger, the explosion ripping through the building and forcing the Ebon Hawk into a momentary nosedive as Davik's Estate came apart at the seams behind them. The ship twisted upwards, engines accelerating as the fastest ship in the galaxy blasted away from the crumbling city through a torrent of laser fire and into a waiting Sith fleet.

---

"Come on, move! Move!" Carth pushed the others forward through the hallway, screaming aliens rushing in all directions as the city came apart around them. They had to move. They had to get to lower ground. The Undercity, that might be safe. If the building would stay stable long enough for them to survive the elevator ride. Maybe there was still time to steal a ship... no, they still didn't have any launch coats, the auto lasers would eviscerate them. The building trembled, debris dropping from the ceiling as Carth jumped over a fallen Ithorian, still pushing the rest of the group forward. There had to be a way out of this, there still had to be a way. It wasn't going to end like-

An orbital laser struck just below their floor, fire and debris flying towards them from the wall and up at them through the floor. The group tripped, stumbled. Almost all of them fell to the rapidly disappearing ground. Bastila, however, did not. Bastila flew sideways, a small section of the building's steel frame ripping through her abdomen and impaling her spine against the inner wall.

Thirty seven miles away, very near to clearing the Sith orbital guns, the Ebon Hawk jerked suddenly downward and spiraled out of control towards the planet.


	11. Plans

CHAPTER 11

**Plans**

"Bastila!" Carth scrambled over the rubble, the city behind him quickly crumbling beneath the rain of neon red. The hallway was open now, a huge hole torn through the side of the apartment building they'd been squatting in. The savior of the Republic lay face down, most of her robes now a dark crimson. The steel rod she had been impaled upon still stuck outwards from the wall, smeared with red, though the constant rumbling of a building collapsing section by section had shaken her loose. She was not moving.

Mission slid another centimeter, her hands gripping the ledge of crumbling floor, feet dangling in open air.

"Uh... uh, guys?" A chunk of rubble fell past her, bouncing off an extended bit of floor a few stories down and tumbling down into the rising black smoke. The building shook again, one of her hands slipping off the floor and the other rapidly losing its weakened grip. "AHHH! GUYS!" It was somewhere between a scream and a cry. Another laser hit the base of the structure, the impact easily throwing Mission's failing grip free of the ledge.

"Hang on, kid!"

A large hand grabbed her slender wrist, Trask Ulgo grunting as he tried to stop the Twi'lek from disappearing into the Undercity, and to keep from joining her. Mission's free hand grabbed desperately at his arm as he, too, began to slide over the edge. Their eyes locked, and in that moment of mutual terror, they became closer than many would have in a lifetime. Trask was suddenly, almost violently jerked into the air, a great, furry arm emerging from behind him and grabbing Mission by the shoulder. It swung her away from the building's ledge and planted her safely, if somewhat roughly, against the far wall. Trask was deposited next to her immediately after, and certainly no softer.

"...thanks..." He managed. The wookie howled something he couldn't understand in reply. It certainly didn't sound pleased about the whole situation, though, he could make out that much.

"HOLY SHIT!" Mission's eyes were frozen open, the city around her coming apart at the seams and disappearing into an ocean of rising smoke and fire. There was a glint of something in the distance, hardly noticeable between the laser storm and the crumbling world. Trask, however, had seen that glint many times before. A ship was coming directly towards them, and the afterburners were roaring.

---

The Ebon Hawk was shaking apart at the welds, hurled through a hurricane of fire and destruction by engines many times too large for its size. The pilot was not speaking, though a whisper-quiet scream of rage was escaping through his clenched teeth, inaudible against the roar of the ship and the Sith bombardment. White knuckles held the throttle in a death grip, the device almost snapping under the strain. He could feel her through the force, like a lighthouse shining through a tempest.

"CANDEROUS."

The Mandalorian in the navigator's seat eyed him cautiously. He had come to respect Jedi, however grudgingly, during the war. This Jedi in particular had earned a great deal of respect, if for no other reason than he single handedly destroyed a Sith military base and killed Davik Kang, Calo Nord, and all their guards in less than ten seconds. He was also very angry, and an angry Jedi was a rare and terrible thing.

"Yeah?"

The Stranger took a breath to calm himself. Then two. Then three.

"There's a woman inside that building." He glanced at one of the taller structures in the quickly disappearing Taris skyline. "When I stop, get her on this ship. Get her to the medbay."

"Alright, I'm on it." He began to stand, looking at the large hole in the rapidly approaching building, and the large collection of silhouettes on almost every floor. "What about anyone else with her?"

"I DON"T CARE! JUST GET HER ON THIS DAMN SHIP!"

---

Carth injected another medpack uselessly into Bastila's side. There was no point, even if they weren't all about to die, they'd never be able to repair this kind of damage. Saul had done it. He'd finally won. Without Bastila the scattered victories would cease, and there would be nothing to stop the Sith from surging into the core systems, maybe even into Coruscant. If there was just some way to-

"Carth, we've got company!"

Carth looked up, away from the fallen jedi as a small cargo freighter fired its reverse thrusters, roaring to a stop directly in front of them. It hovered impatiently, hail of orbital lasers passing behind it. The loading ramp began to extend, revealing a large Mandalorian holding an almost larger gun and hanging onto the supports.

"Hurry up! Get her onboard!"

He was shouting at Carth. Zaalbar was already tossing Mission across the tiny gap and onto the safety of the ramp. She scrambled up it as Trask lept onto the shaking platform himself, the wookie waiting at the ledge for the last two members of the group.

"I'll take her, get going!" Carth moved as steadily and quickly as he could, Bastila held in his arms, trying not to injure the jedi any further. He'd never move her in the first place if there was any choice at all. Zaalbar howled, pushing him onto the ramp and climbing up after him. The Ebon Hawk reared backwards, a laser blast striking the building just above them. As rubble crashed onto the ship, the Ebon Hawk spun around and up, after burners igniting as it charged through the orbital bombardment and towards the Sith blockade.

"They're onboard." Canderous said, sitting down in the navigator's seat once more.

"_They're?_" The Stranger glanced at Canderous.

"You said you didn't care what I did with her friends."

"That means leave them! That doesn't mean-" A laser beam glanced off the top rear of the ship, sending it spinning. The shield indicators were flashing red, now, their defenses vaporized by a chance blow from a Sith capital ship.

"Damn it!" The Stranger jerked the ship sideways, correcting course and concentrating on the immediate danger.

"Are we still stopping on the Leviathan?"

"No, we're not stopping. I need to fall back, I need to make a plan. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

The ship rolled out of the atmosphere, blasting past the orbiting fleet. The point defense systems of the Sith warships began to open up, a mass of fire converging on a single, tiny freighter trying desperately to break free. Sith fighters began to slide out of their hanger bays, slipping into space and unfolding their wings. The Ebon Hawk darted through the wave of fire, as if it knew exactly where and when a path would open. As the fighters began to close the distance, the freighter escaped the planet's gravity well and disappeared into hyperspace.

--

"Okay, well, this certainly went tits up, didn't it?" The Stranger said to Canderous, resting an elbow on the control panel and his chin in his hand as he pretended to read the sensor data.

"I don't know, you never told me why we needed to save them in the first place. Or why it means we can't do whatever fool thing you were planning on doing on the Leviathan."

"Actually, I don't believe I said anything about saving them." The Stranger glanced at his navigator. "I believe I said 'Save her' without saying anything about saving half the crew of the Endar Spire." He turned, watching Carth and the others entering the cockpit from the main hold. The Stranger's chin never left his hand, and his eyes never went wider than half open.  
"And yet here everyone is. It's like Lifeday."

"Bastila's in the medical bay, she's stable but we don't have the equipment to deal with a wound like that, we'll have to get her some treatment planetside wherever we decide to go. We're lucky you showed up when you did, don't know how much longer she would have made it. That was a pretty daring rescue, by the way."

"Harrowing, I'm sure. You are Carth Onassi, correct?"

"...Yes, that would be me. We met once on the-"

"On the Endar Spire, yes, I remember you. If you're half as good as the rumors, I think you should be the one to fly the ship." The Stranger said, standing and stepping aside, gesturing to the empty seat.

"I... don't know that that's necessary. You did a really good job getting us out of Taris."

"Yes, but now I need to attend to my apprentice and I have a feeling that wherever we end up going we're going to need more than 'really good', and you're the best. So hop to it."

Carth glanced at the Stranger as he slipped into the pilot's seat, the Jedi... at least, Carth had assumed he was a Jedi, brushed past the rest of the disoriented crew towards the medical bay.

"Where should I go?" He shouted over them.

"I don't care. Somewhere populated." The Stranger dismissed the question with a wave.

The Ebon Hawk's medical bay was small, most of it currently occupied by Bastila's unconscious body. Revan sealed the door behind him, leaning against the recovery bed and examining the life support readouts. He spoke as he read them, half to Bastila and half to himself.

"Wonderful. You did this on purpose, I'm sure." He glanced at the jedi, now in her under garments and crudely bandaged on the table. "You're quite dedicated to ruining me, though, I'll give you that. I certainly wouldn't take a steel beam to the spine in order to upset _your_ ingenious if delicate plan." He pulled a datapad from the foot of the bed, scrolling down the information. "Oh good, you're going to live. I suppose I could keep you comatose in a kolto tank deep within the bowels of the Leviathan under constant, heavy guard, but that might be more trouble than its worth. And you'd be quite the liability in the meantime. Hmm." He scrolled idly through the pad some more, re-reading old data while he thought.

"It seems like there's more to this, like you're _meant_ for something greater..."

"Is that... why you came back?"

The voice was weak, and Revan was caught off guard. He turned to Bastila, lowering the datapad. Her eyes were half closed, her vision and mind clouded by the gallons of kolto and painkillers, though both side effects were doubtless much less than an ordinary person in a similar situation. Much less. Even Bastila would have died from that injury had Revan not strengthened her through the bond they now shared, _willed_ her from the jaws of death.

"Oh, you've started eavesdropping without letting anyone know you're there. You are no longer my padawan, you are now a Jedi Master." Revan moved his hand, giving her a Mandalorian blessing. "The Council has nothing more to teach you."

"How can you not... take this seriously? An entire world..."

"Was destroyed by Malak, yes. It was not the first and it will not be the last. He has committed many such failings."

Bastila blinked, drifting quickly out of consciousness once more. Revan reached into his pocket, speaking to her quickly before she faded away again.

"I don't know why this has happened the way it has or what the force intends for us, but I know that whatever it is, there will be suffering and there will be death." He pulled the lighsaber hilt from his jacket, the double-edge silver shining in the artificial light. He placed it in her hand, letting go only as her fingers weakly curled around it. "And I know you will die if you do not have this."

"Thank you..." She whispered before she slipped away, life support pinging steadily, her condition critical, but stable for the time being. Revan stood, watching her for a moment before sighing and opening the door of the medbay. The republic soldier was waiting for him, blaster rifle in his hands.

"Carth's set course for Dantooine. We should be there in a few hours."

"Dantooine." The Stranger replied.

"Yes, ah... yes, sir."

There was a long, pained sigh as Carth looked behind him to see the Stranger coming up from the main hold, speaking to him, apparently.

"You know what? From now on, I care about everything. I care about every little thing and it will be done exactly how I say because if I don't, we get shit like this. Hello, Carth. Going to Dantooine are we?"

"Is that problem? It's the nearest planet with decent medical facilities that isn't part of the Sith Empire."

"It's also the nearest planet that we're not going to. Find another one."

"Another one?" Carth turned around, confused. "What's wrong with Dantooine?"

"Everything. Everything is wrong with Dantooine."

"We're already in the hyperspace lane, there's not much I can do."

The Stranger sighed again, turning around and leaving for the ship's dormitories.

"Fine, maintain course and put us down on the planet. There's a Jedi Academy you should land at, it will make everything go quite a bit quicker for me."

"Ah... alright, sir. Where are you going?"

"To make a plan." The Stranger said, disappearing past the main hold.


	12. Good Intentions

CHAPTER 12

Good Intentions

Bastila stood in the academy courtyard, surrounded by many jedi, many friends. The war was tearing a rift in the Order, and many feared the hallowed grounds of the Jedi temples would soon erupt in violent insurrection, even as the Mandalorian fleets consumed the galaxy. Revan was here, along with many of his followers.

"The Cathar no longer _exist_, their homeworld has been turned to scorched _glass_, billions are dead and the Republic is _reeling_."

He was speaking to the assembled group, many staring in disbelief, others talking quickly and quietly amongst themselves. Friends attempting to reach a unified conclusion. Bastila's master was with her, as was her best friend.

"We are the Republic's greatest defenders, we are warriors and champions, we exist to protect the galaxy from enemies they do not possess the strength to fight. In their most dire hour, the Republic has turned to us, desperate for aid. Their worlds burn, their armies die, billions of innocent lives have already been lost because the Republic alone was unable to protect them. They turn to us, then, and what is the council's answer? What is their solution to the Mandalorian scourge? They _condone_ it."

There was a passion stirring within the crowd, and many, it seemed, were being swayed to Revan's side. Her master was quiet, although she could swear she saw him frown. Her friend was not so reserved, openly shouting in agreement with the rogue Jedi and in defiance of the council.

"The galaxy outside the Jedi Order means _nothing _to them! They care of _nobody _except themselves and their long dead Sith. The galaxy is put to the sword by an unstoppable horde of savage invaders and they do not bat an _eye_. Their friends, their allies plead to them for help and they say nothing, _do_ nothing, as the Republic is torn apart, the worlds it protects burned and butchered. The Mandalorian fleet would drive into the heart of the galaxy, bring fire to the skies of Coruscant itself and the Jedi Council would _still_ do nothing. Their own _creed_ means as little to them as the lives of the people they were sworn to protect. But if Mandalore the Ultimate had so much as flashed a red saber as his fleet stood on the edge of Republic space, they would have thrown themselves upon him. They would have called for all the galaxy to unite against such a grand menace. They would have _led_ the Republic against him. Instead we see where their hearts truly lie, in prideful and ignorant self-absorption. They tarnish the honor of all the Jedi past, and they would tell the galaxy that we are no better than the Sith they so fear or the Mandalorians they care so little about. Our hands are covered in the blood of untold billions just as surely as the Mandalorians who held the guns and I _**will not stand for this**_."

He was met with cheers. Shouts of righteous anger, indignant fury. These Jedi that were supposed to be the very model of control and serenity were now little more than a howling mob. She remembered this, back when it was not a dream. Her best friend would leave late that night, to fight with Revan in the war. Her master would advise her not to, instruct her in the wisdom of the council, but that the choice, ultimately, was hers.

"Bastila Shan."

The Jedi became suddenly aware that the cheering had stopped, and the crowd was starring directly at her. As was the future Sith Lord. He spoke again, as a master lecturing an apprentice.

"Why do you falter? Why do you hesitate, debate with yourself as worlds burn? You know you have a gift, Bastila. With you, our counter attack would not be a war, it would be a swift, unstoppable blow to the Mandalorians. Millions would be saved, and you will be a hero. None can end this war as swiftly, as painlessly as you, Bastila. Not even I."

Bastila blinked, glancing back and forth from Revan, to the crowd, to the spaces that held her now absent master and friend. She had not seen them leave. She looked slowly back towards the front of the crowd, at the charismatic, handsome Jedi who was destined to kill so many.

"Revan... you must stop this. It doesn't end how you believe..."

"And how does it end, Bastila? The Mandalorians scattered, driven forever from Republic space? Galactic order restored and trillions of lives saved from annihilation? Even greater things, Bastila, if you join us here, today."

"No, Revan..." She began to walk forward, the crowd shuffling and parting away from her. "You will not end the war. You'll prolong it, twist it, attack the Republic with an army far more terrible than the Mandalorians ever were."

"_I_ will prolong it? Do you truly believe you have nothing to do with how this turns out?" Revan stepped down from his platform, walking towards her through the parting crowd. "That in failing to act, you absolve yourself of consequence?"

They came together, almost touching, the crowd circling around them. Revan laid a hand on her shoulder, his voice... almost sad.

"Did you never wonder, Bastila, what would have happened if you had joined us? Did you never think that, perhaps, with your powers we would have won so quickly, so easily, that it would not have truly been a war at all? That we would have never known true conflict, true horror... that we would return from the campaign _unchanged_. Did you never think, Bastila, that by refusing to stand with us you damned the galaxy?" He withdrew his hand, stepping slowly backwards, away from her.

"You can still save us, Bastila. You can save the Republic, the galaxy, all the jedi who follow us to the war. The very fact that you have that power means your choice, whatever it is, will affect the galaxy." He stopped walking, standing alone on the edge of the circled crowd as Bastila stared, speechless.

"You know what happens if you don't join us. You know how many will die. How many will fall. This is a second chance, Bastila. For you. For Malak. For me." He held out his arm, brown robes falling away to reveal a strong, open hand. "...You can still save all of us. You can still save me." Bastila stood in silence, staring forward. She blinked once, then twice, and opened her mouth to speak. What came out was a scream. A monstrous, mechanical roar. Her head snapped upwards towards the sound, and to her horror, she watched as the Basilisks began to rain from the sky. Blaster fire erupted across the academy courtyard as Mandalorians poured from side entrances and storage holds. Sabers flashed as the assembled Jedi drove at their attackers, screaming, falling, dying in a hail of blaster bolts. Revan stood motionless, a silent pillar in a storm of violence. Explosions. Weapons fire. Screams. A human Jedi fell between them, body torn almost in half by Mandalorian weapons. A twi'lek fell to the ground and writhed, half her skin burned away by an incendiary rocket. For a moment, in the chaos, Bastila recognized her master, double saber tearing through the Mandalorians before a large chunk of his head was removed by a precision sniper shot. Bastila did not watch long enough for the body to hit the ground. She ran, blaster fire scorching the air around her, towards Revan. She reached outwards as she ran, grabbing his hand shortly before wrapping her other arm around him and colliding with the Sith Lord in a running embrace.

---

Carth jerked backwards as Bastila's eyes sprung open, darting back and forth across the medbay in panic.

"Woah, easy." He said, setting down the datapad he'd been reading. "You were tossing around something awful, you must have been having one hell of a nightmare."

Bastila closed her eyes again, visibly trying to calm her self.

"Yes, I... I suppose that would be one way to describe it." She glanced at Carth in concern. "Where is-"

"He's talking with the Jedi Council, he's got to have some pull around here because he just walked up and they let him in. Didn't think that usually happened."

Carth didn't realize until after he finished that he could have let her finished and finally gotten a name.

"The Jedi... where are we? How long have I been out?"

"A day, maybe two. We're on Dantooine for now, we've mostly been waiting for-"

"Oh no." Bastila grabbed the side of the medical bed and began to life herself. "I've got to see the council, they'll-"

"Woah, nuh-uh sister." Carth put his hand on her shoulder, gently forcing her back down. "The doctors have done a pretty good job patching you up, but it'll be a couple of days before you're walking anywhere again. You cold use a rest after Taris, anyway."

"Taris..." Bastila muttered, memory suddenly jogging.

"How bad was it?" She asked, looking up at Carth. "Are there casualty reports yet?"

"They're in the billions." He said quietly. Bastila closed her eyes as he continued. "Mission's taking it pretty hard, Trask and the wookie are doing what they can for her, but... there's only so much you can say after something like that."

"How long..." Bastila began, eyes still closed. "...has he been with the Council?"

"Not long." Carth replied. "He wouldn't leave until the doctor's said you were going to be okay. I know he's a Jedi and it's sort of par for the course for you people, but with that and the last minute rescue off an exploding planet, he seems pretty impressive."

Bastila did not verbally respond, although Carth could not understand why she quite obviously frowned.

---

"Have you come seeking vengeance?"

The council chambers echoed Vrook's words to an empty audience, the entire grounds deserted save for five. Four tiny members of the Jedi Council on Dantooine, and one tiny Sith Lord. Revan furrowed his brow, gesturing as he spoke.

"For what? Billions are dead because you decided they weren't worth saving. It's heinous for anyone, let alone a Jedi Master, but it was always your choice to make, Vrook. I couldn't take vengeance for that. Even if I wanted to, the shame and the pain you feel every day must be far worse than anything I could do to you. Although unless you've changed since Coruscant, you've likely buried all that beneath self righteous denial." His expression shifted, suddenly worried. "Ooh, Vrook, that's usually the first step towards the fall. You ought to watch that."

"You ignorant-"

"Peace, Vrook." Vandar raised his small, brown hand. He watched Vrook for a moment, an unspoken conversation issuing back and forth between the two. When it was finished, he lowered his hand and turned to the Sith Lord.

"We must know what happened on Taris, and the Endar Spire."

"The Endar Spire was ambushed by a Sith battle fleet, Bastila did what may be the only smart thing she has ever done and let me out of my force cage, the Endar Spire exploded, we were separated when our escape pods crashed, I saved everyone and Taris was destroyed."

"Why did you return here?" Master Dorak asked, adjusting his seat.

"Because Bastila would obviously want to relay all this to her masters and Coruscant was a long walk. I also missed Master Vrook, lovable miser that he is."

"What did you hope to accomplish by this insult?" Vrook asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Gosh, I don't know." Revan turned, putting his hand to his chin. "Hmm. Maybe I wanted to stop Malak and thought since you're the people he's out specifically to kill, you might have some interest in helping me do that."

"The council has requested your assistance once before-" Master Zhandar began.

"No." Revan said coldly, pointing an accusing finger and stepping towards the council. "You threatened, you goaded, you bribed but you never once asked for my help. You threw me in a force cage and made Bastila stand around me all day hoping she could catch something through our bond about why the Sith resources are infinite and yours are most assuredly not."

He lowered his hand, gaze shifting from council member to council member.

"I came to offer you my help in defeating Malak, but you're going to have to ask for it."

"Peace, Vrook." Vandar said preemptively. There was a silence in the council as Vandar bowed his head for a moment, in thought, before raising it again, eyes locking with the Sith Lord.

"Revan, once of the Jedi, once of the Sith, perhaps again for either, we, the Jedi Council of Dantooine, ask for your help in defeating a foe that we cannot stand against alone. Please, Revan, will you help us?"

"Why, of course." Revan said, merrily bowing. "I'd be happy to. To start with, I'm going to need-"

"Not so fast, _Revan_." Vrook said, watching the other councilors. "Surely you can't believe these lies? He obviously attempted to flee the Endar Spire and returned to rescue Bastila only when he learned of the bond between them, likely when she was injured. This rescue was no act of altruism, it was selfish self preservation and he's twisted it into-"

"Oh come _on_, Vrook." Revan said, rubbing his temple. "Is there anything you won't turn around on me? Should I have let her die?"

There was silence for a moment in the temple before Vrook spoke again, looking at Master Vandar.

"A test, is in order, I think."

Vandar thought for a moment before nodding his approval.

"A test." Revan repeated, unenthused.

"There has been a disturbance near the grove. You have visited it before during your time here, you know where it lies. Cleanse the grove of this disturbance, and you shall have our aid."

"Are you serious? Cleanse the disturbance?" He held his sinuses, letting out a long, disgruntled sigh and mutterings that sounded like 'bullshit' and 'years ago'.

---

"You served in the war, Carth. What battles were you in? We may have faced each other in combat." Canderous asked, standing in the main hold, idly adjusting the battery packs on his heavy blaster. Carth was leaning against the corridor wall, just outside the medbay. He watched the Mandalorian a moment before responding.

"I'd rather not talk about it, I don't think there's anything to be gained by drudging up the horrors of war."

Canderous stopped working, staring in disbelief at his blaster before looking up, confused and somewhat disgusted.

"The '_horrors of war_'? There is no _horror_ in the glory and honor of the battlefield, Carth. I'm disappointed in you, I thought with your reputation that a warrior like you would-"

"Yeah well, I'm not a warrior." Carth interrupted. "I'm a soldier. There's a difference. Warriors attack and conquer. Their murderers on a mass scale. Soldiers fight to protect the innocent, anyone who can't defend themselves. Usually from warriors."

"Lovely speech, Carth." Canderous stood, leaning over the work bench. "I bet you tell yourself that every night so you can sleep. There is no difference between a warrior and a soldier. I accept what I am, and I don't have to justify it with lies. Victory in battle is my justification."

Carth stepped away from the walk, walking towards the Mandalorian.

"Justification through victory? So what happens when you lose? You know, like you did against us."

Canderous stepped to the front of the workbench, leaning against it and now very interested in this conversation.

"You had us outnumbered five to one, you had more ships, more troops, more supplies and the Jedi on your side. And we _still_ made the Republic tremble before we fell."

"Nice speech, I bet you tell yourself that every night so you can sleep." Carth said as footsteps clanked into the hold. Trask sat down on one of the spare shairs, drink in his hand. He was only there a moment before a shadow rose up against the wall, and the Stranger walked in from the loading ramp.

"Alright." He addressed the assembled crew. "I've got some unneeded business to take care of for the council and I'm bringing some of you along with me. Speeder only seats three, which is an extremely odd number for a speeder to seat but that's what we've got, so I'll need two volunteers." He pointed to the Mandalorian. "Canderous, you're my go to guy, get in the speeder."

"I thought you said you were looking for volunteers." He replied as moved towards the ramp.

"I lied. Let's see... Bastila has too much of her spine broken, the Twi'lek has too much PTSD, the wookie is too _wookie,_ Carth I'd like to keep by the ship and you..." He looked at Trask. "...I don't even know who you are."

"Trask Ulgo, I'm with the Repub-"

"And now that I know you I hate you. Looks like it's just going to be Canderous and me, you all have fun though. Tell Bastila the council wants to talk to her as soon as they can and that's not going to be trouble, noooo."

"Uh... yeah, sure thing." Carth responded as Bastila's companion disappeared down the ramp. He turned to trask, frowning.

"He seem a little agitated to you?"

Trask shrugged, taking another drink from his cup of Tarisian ale.


	13. Juhani

CHAPTER 13

"No... no, please..."

The farmer stumbled backwards, gray hair hitting one of the parked speeders as he fell to the grass. He groaned, clutching his head as a shadow fell over him.

"Tear his legs off, leave the rest for the kath hounds."

The voice was low, coming from somewhere behind the speeder. The farmer looked up from the ground as something fluid began to push through his fingers. A mass of fading blue stood above him, edges of the sun shining behind its cyclopian head like a crown of light.

"No." The voice behind the helmet responded. "We're going to lash him to the back of the speeder. Fifty credits is a lot of money for a nobody dirt farmer. I think he's bought himself a ride."

"N-no!" The old man tried to bring himself to his knees. "A-anything, take... take my wife and children instead."

"You miserable old fart." The Mandalorian pressed an armored boot to his shoulder and kicked him to the ground again.

"That was so pathetic I think I'm actually going to go out of my way to make you suffer."

The old farmer swallowed, feeling the sole of the boot press gently against his windpipe. The blaster carbine hovered above his face, pressure of the boot slowly increasing as the voice behind the Mandalorian helmet continued to speak.

"I think the ride is just going to be the start." It said. "I think we're going to ride back to your little mud hole and you're going to watch while I take you up on your offer.

Then, you sniviling kath hound, the real pain is going to star-"

That was as far as the voice got before the pressure on the farmer's throat was gone, along with the boot that was applying it. He heard screaming, an explosion... two explosions... a speeders engine roaring... no more screaming. He forced himself to his knees, blood from his wound now flowing down half his face. He felt heat pressing against him, and through his clear eye saw the trail of speeder debris and the pillar of flame where the Mandalorians had parked their makeshift convoy. Bodies were scattered across the field, armored Mandalorians and their ill-equipped Duros allies. Most of the armor was dented inwards in several places, deep enough that anything hitting them that hard could have sent them into shock from concussive force alone. The farmer struggled to his feet, hand held against his bleeding head. His lip quivered as he fell again to his weathered knees and began rehearsing a story that would make him a legend.

"That was impressive." Canderous said, returning the last unused thermal detonator to its pouch. "I don't think I've ever seen a drive by punch."

"Not a force punch to an armored head at ninety seven kilometers, I imagine." The Stranger looked behind him as the speeder cleared the last of the hills, the site of their massacre now far behind them. "I kind of hope, anyway."

"I was wondering on Taris, but I never got a chance to ask..." Canderous glanced at the Stranger in the driver's seat beside him. For the first time, Ordo really looked at the Jedi who'd rescued him and a motly crew of Republic celebrities from an exploding planet. The Stranger was younger than him, maybe Onassi's age but twice as... what was the word? Womanly. Face wasn't rugged or chisled enough to be a man's, let alone a warriors. Yet here the Stranger was, easily one of the most fearsome Jedi Canderous had met in a long while. Almost incredibly so. The speeder hit bump, and the sun of Dantooine caught in the short flow of the Stranger's raven hair. His eyes were bright, almost yellow. Unnatural, in humans. Usually a sign of disease. The Stranger's skin was pale, also unnaturally so. Like he'd spent his entire life away from the sunlight. All of this Canderous thought in the two seconds pause he'd taken to finish his sentence. "...what are you going to do after you kill him?"

"Who?" The stranger glanced at him. "Oh, Malak? I don't know. I might not even get a chance anymore, it's gotten complicated."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes, well, to be honest the murderous rage is starting to wear off anyway. Malak needs a good thump, maybe a few of them, but it'd kind of a waste to just kill him." The Stranger swerved away from one of the solitary trees dotting the fields, his yellow eyes watching Canderous rather than the path ahead.

"That doesn't sound like any Sith I've ever met." Canderous asked.

"Oh, you've met every Sith?" The Stranger asked, swooping past another rock and raising an eyebrow at the Mandalorian.

"Of course not." Canderous admitted. "But I've met my share, and for a high ranking Sith you're... different."

"Should I put on a mask and act all spooky? Or foam at the mouth and scream declarations of murderous intent?"

"That sounds more like a Sith, yeah."

"Adorable." The speeder hit a narrow ramp of a hill, sailing through the air and landing hard, the Stranger making a deft recovery and continuing through the fields even faster than before.

The temple ruins came suddenly into view, enormous stacks of moss covered stone looking out over the empty fields, the dead king of grass. The speeder slowed to a halt, bits of an ancient stone road breaking through the grass beneath them. Before it stopped, the Stranger leapt over the side, landing deftly on the uneaven ground.

"What are we supposed to do out here, anyway? You never said." Canderous asked, stepping out of the speeder.

"Halt a disturbance in the force." The Stranger said, moving towards the temple. "From what I can sense, and I can sense a lot because I'm pretty awesome and Jedi are predictable, we're dealing with a padawan who got a little angry at the mean old Jedi Order and decided to come out here and sulk."

There was a low growling in the distance as the Stranger paused, a half dozen kath hounds circling from behind the temple.

"Oh no." The Stranger said, holding a gloved hand to his mouth. "Kath hounds."

Canderous strained, lifting his heavy blaster from the back and slinging it over his shoulder.

"I'm on it." His words were cut off almost immediately by the whir of the charging power cells and the sudden, unmistakable, world shattering sound of a Mandalorian heavy repeating blaster . The ground around the ruined temple exploded, waves of dust and showering debris fed by the constant torrent of raw energy. Pieces of stone, dirt and kath hound rained down around the Stranger, smaller pieces bouncing off his head as he frowned, covering his hair with a hand.

"ENOUGH!"

The shout cut through the roar of the weapon, now slowly turning into a dull whine as Canderous released his finger from the trigger. Dust drifted past them as high as the temple stairs, spreading across the field as bits of stone began to creak, then groan, a single stone pillar falling forward from the temple ruins and disappearing into the dust. A shape emerged at the top of the stairway, masked by shadow and poised aggressively in the ruined doorway. The Stranger squinted through the dust, eyes suddenly widening.

A red blade pierced suddenly down from the figure's side, glowing fiercely behind the smoke. Canderous adjusted his weapon, raising it towards the top of the temple steps as the figure raised an empty hand, the air around Canderous splintering and reforming into a physical, almost crystalline prison.

"I will be your doom." The voice was a woman's, its accent heavy... its feeling cold. A Cathar, it had to be. He'd know the sound anywhere. Clever, of the Council.

Surprisingly clever.

He might even compliment them for having the foresight to set this up.

"Yes, this is where I meet my match." He strolled towards the temple through the dust, gesturing around the grove in a grand fashion. "Struck down at long last by my arch nemesis, the great Sith Lord, Darth Kitty Cat. The Mandalorians did the galaxy a favor when they glassed your world."

There was a roar, an enraged yowl as the sith shot from the moss-covered doorway with a lightning flourish into the air, saber drawing back for the killing blow. As her fingers clenched tightly around the hilt and her arm began to swing forward, the unarmed stranger simply stared. She was faster than he could comprehend. To the human, she was still standing on the top of the stairs, still-

She slammed suddenly into an invisible wall.

Revan flicked his wrist, sending the Cathar crashing into the grass at his feet. He shoved his hand forward, shooting her back up the steps. She tore through them, stone and dust falling from the smooth trail behind her. She continued flying until she struck the stone archway of the temple door, cracking it like glass before falling to her starting part at the top of the stairs. The silver of her lightsaber hilt flashed in the Dantooine sun for a moment before it landed in the gloved hands of the stranger. The red beam flashed forward.

"Hm." He swept it to the side. "Crystal's poorly focused."

The saber flashed, spun in a whirl of crimson light before stopping at the man's side.

"Hilt balance is off, but it's not bad for your first try."

The cathar groaned pushing herself onto her knees.

"What do you want from me?" She asked, bits of stone falling on her from the ceiling. The hilt of her saber struck her forehead without warning, bouncing off and rolling along the temple floor.

"Round two. Let's go."

She groaned, looking down at the stranger standing in the middle of the grove. Calm. Pale. When he attacked, she'd felt a sudden swell of power from him that there had been no trace of before. He was strong. She stood, body aching, and opened her hand as her saber hilt was flung from the floor into her palm. The red beam flashed as she shot downward, sliding along the groove she'd carved in the temple stairs. She focused her attention forward, gathering the force in front of her and holding it there like an invisible shield. He wasn't going to catch her off guard again. She pulled the saber back, left hand held in front of her as she prepared to leap off the trench's rapidly approaching end. When her front foot first hit soil she sprung upwards, blade slashing down across the empty air. She reared back, the force of her swing clearing away the lingering dust in front of her. She turned, instinctively, in time to see the stranger standing behind her.

The foremost stone column of the temple shattered as Juhani was thrown through it. The second column buckled and cracked at the midsection where she struck it, but did not shatter. She fell in a heap on the floor of the temple, bits of stone and dust following her. She coughed, barely able to pull herself to her knees.

"That was a force pull!" The voice was drifting up from the grove. "It's the opposite of a push. A push is what I did the first time. You'll learn all this stuff when you go to the Jedi Academy."

Juhani crawled to the doorway of the temple, propping her sitting form wearily up against its frame.

"I attended the academy here since before I can remember."

"Oh, man. Awkward." The stranger leaned against one of the still intact columns at the bottom of the stairs.

"I am a failure. I slew my master. Gave up everything to embrace the darkside. To embrace power... and now I find I lack even that."

"Yeah, you're pretty awful."

She turned her head, looking down at the Jedi.

"Why do you come here? To mock me?" She asked.

"That's probably going to be the best part, but no. The council asked me to clear a disturbance in the grove, so here I am." Juhani chuckled softly. "And now I am a pest to be cleansed. Why do you not finish your task?"

"Give me a minute, damn. You're awfully impatient to get face planted again."

"I would rather not draw out my end." Juhani leaned her head back against the doorway, closing her eyes. "I suppose, deep down, I always knew this is how it would end."

"Statistically, it's a pretty safe bet for most people to assume I'll off them, yeah." The man said.

Juhani opened her eyes, turning her head to again stare at the man leaning nonchalant at the foot of the stairway.

"...Who are you?"

"I'm the Mysterious Stranger."

Juhani forced herself onto her feet, grimacing and nursing what must have been a half dozen broken ribs.

"Stranger, then. I assume there is some reason, when you bested me so easily, that you have still not killed me yet."

"Yeah, that would be because I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to do the next best thing and send you packing back to the Jedi academy."

"I can never go back. I slew Quatra... in anger... such a crime is unforgivable."

"Alright. First of all..." The stranger stepped away from the column, gesturing with his hands as he talked. "You, could never kill a Jedi Master. I mean, don't get me wrong, they're awful compared to any decent Sith but they're still like... up here." He raised a hand to chest height. "You? You're like... down here."

He lowered his other hand to his thigh.

"Well. Maybe... more like... here."

He crouched, bringing his hand to his knees.

"Secondly." He stood suddenly, pointing at the academy building just visible in the distance. "_Unforgivable_ is not a word they understand. Naga Sadow could walk in there and they'd take him back in a heartbeat as long as he said he's sorry."

"But... Quatra..."

"Yeah, look, even if by some miracle of the force you managed to actually kill a Jedi Master, for real, then I can't think of a better safeguard against a you turning to the darkside again. I mean, you have screwed up. You have screwed up monumentally but you've got no incentive to go back to the darkside. Most Jedi end up turning because they've been so sheltered and conditioned to avoid it that they have no idea what it's actually like. So whenever they get their first taste of it they go completely crazy with the idea of how powerful it could make them, all the people look like ants, the galaxy is mine, blah blah blah and BAM Korriban's got a new student."

The stranger began walking up the shallow trench in the stairs towards Juhani.

"But you? You've already done it. You took the easy path. The cheater's path. The morally bankrupt path that was suppose to give you an edge, and what happened? What did you do with all your vaunted dark power in the face of a real Jedi?" The stranger stopped one stair below Juhani, staring up at her, face breaking into a knowing smile.

"You took three tons of rock to the face."

He reached up, hand outstretched.

"What's your name?" He asked.

She stared at his hand a moment before taking it.

"The Humbled Student."


	14. Dark Messiah

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dark Messiah

The medical bay of the Ebon Hawk was small and understocked, cloistered away from the rest of the ship just off the engine room. It hosted a single, uncomfortable bed and a small array of monitoring computers. The medical supplies, never stocked to deal with more than basic injuries, had been exhausted trying to breathe life into someone with a shattered spine. A medical droid, on loan from the Jedi Academy, hovered over the bed. It was little more than a durasteel cylinder with a spider-like web of mechanical arms extending from its base. Each arm was preoccupied with a different task, some pressing buttons or flipping switches on Bastila's monitoring systems, others making constant adjustments to the medical bays self-contained life support system, and at least one seemed devoted solely to swatting at Bastila's hand in agitation every time she reached for her drink.

"I just want some water, is that really going to upset your calculations?" SHe asked as her hand was met by a mechanical parry and a chorus of angry beeps. She sighed, settling back down onto what must surely be a single slab of concrete. Her body was mostly numb from the droid's delicate tampering earlier that day, but her head was becoming increasingly sore and she'd been growing thirstier by the minute ever since it began running its seemingly endless cumulative physical examination. She glanced cautiously at the droid before creeping her hand slowly away from the bed towards the table holding her distant oasis. The hovering arm of the medical droid split open, twirling to revealing a ring of needles, each pulsing inward and out on its own internal rhythm. It lowered itself between Bastila's hand and the clear plastic glass, swiveling downwards and waiting.

Bastila groaned inwardly, again retracting her arm to her side.

"How're you feeling? Droid isn't cause too much trouble, I hope?" Carth asked, leaning just inside the doorway. "I never liked the R series, always seemed... pushy."

"Oh, I'm doing wonderfully, Carth. I'm tempted to be nearly ripped in two more often."

"Good, because there's going to be a lot of people ready to take you up on that. Some friends of yours from the council stopped by to see you. Should I tell them to get lost or are you up for some Jedi earboxing?"

"Shouldn't refuse a visit from the council. Is the Stranger coming?" She asked, glancing at Carth over her water glass.

"He left a few minutes ago with the Mandalorian. Some... special mission he wouldn't talk about. I'm really going to need an explanation on who this guy is and what you're doing before I get involved beyond my assignment, which, by the way, ended the second you were safely back in Republic space."

"I'm afraid I don't have any answers for you, Carth. I understand your concerns, but it isn't my place to betray classified information, either from the Republic or the Jedi Council."

"Alright, I'll play along for a little while more. Don't be surprised if you need ask the Republic for another escort, though. I'm not getting involved in anything that smells this bad unless I know exactly what's going on." He said, disappearing into the engine room. Bastila sighed, muttering an apology under her breath. She didn't like the secrecy this mission required, or, really, anything about this mission. She hadn't learned anything about the source of the Sith's seemingly endless fleet, either from her bond with Revan or his voluntary explanation. She didn't like him being loose and she didn't like him being anything less than a cackling villain. Sith were predictable, following only their basist emotions without any morality or chivalry to get interrupt their service of the dark side. Jedi, too, were suppose to be predictable. Honor and selflessness above all other virtues, unfettered by temptation and vice. Revan seemed to be none of these things.

"You should have known better than to engage a dark lord in single combat." Vrook's stubborn condecention was the bane of the Academy and any Padawan in the Jedi Order could recognize it instantly.

"What?" Bastila looked up, Vrook approaching her bed and Master Vandar's seat hovering beside him.

"When the Sith attacked the Endar Spire to reclaim their master, you tried to prevent his escape, did you not? Or were you injured during the Sith attack, which allowed him to flee in the first place? What exactly happened on that ship, Padawan?" Vrook's tone was as unforgiving as it had ever been. Bastila swallowed, tilting her head to look the Jedi Master in the eye.

"I released him."

Vrook's brow furled, glaring at the incapacitated woman.

"You did _what_?"

"When the Endar Spire came under attack, it was too late for me to use my battle meditation. We were outnumbered twenty to one and we just happened to have onboard what you yourself once described as a _tactical genius_. Who in their right mind wouldn't try to make use of a resource like that?" Bastila asked with an unusual fire.

"And Revan's condition was release?" Vandar hovered lower, slipping down to just above Bastila's medical table.

"Yes." She looked away. "I did what I had to do."

"You certainly did. One wonders what horrible fate might have befallen the Endar Spire if the mighty Revan hadn't been there to save it." Vrook paused, an unspoken _Oh Wait_ carried in the silent pause.

"If I'd left him in that force cage, he would have died when the ship was lost and then Carth and I would have died on Taris along with everyone else. Where would your precious battle meditation be, then? Hm?"

"You speak out of turn, Padawan." Vrook said, his voice growing even harsher.

"Peace, both of you." Vandar looked from Bastila to his friend, folding his hands in front of him. "We cannot undo what has been done. Revan is here, as is young Bastila. While their bond holds, he will not harm her."

"And after it is gone?" Vrook asked, a statement more than a question.

Master Vandar closed his eyes, saying nothing.

The Jedi Academy was a smooth, stone building decorated with sections of dark, polished wood and a harmonious mingling of natural flora and fauna, concentrated mostly in the courtyard around a large, ancient tree. Belaya sat on the ring of stones bordering the tree, idly watching the crowd of visitors, Padawans and Jedi pass through the courtyard. She would often rest here and admire the beauty of the courtyard, the air, the plants, the many different people always hurrying through, talking, laughing, as full of life as anywhere she had known.

There was far less laughing today. Many were quiet, exchanging worried whispers or nervous glances. The Sith Armada had leveled Taris to its soil, and much of that endless fleet was preparing to onto the core worlds. The scars of the Mandalorian war were still deep and fresh for both the Republic and the Jedi... neither had the will or the resources to endure another, against an enemy the was immeasurably more terrible.

Belaya pressed her hand against the bark of the mighty tree, her longtime place of solace no longer able to bring her comfort. Quatra was dead, and Juhani had fallen. Worse, the Council had forbidden her from venturing into the grove where she had fled, or from leaving the academy at all. Master Zhar had simply assured her that Juhani would be saved. She pulled her hand away from the tree, letting it rest on the hilt of her lightsaber. If anything happened to Juhani because the council forbade her from helping, they'd...

No.

Her hand slipped from the saber and onto the grass. The council would never allow harm to come to her, if Zhar said she would be safe, then Juhani would be safe. That was all that could be said about it.

The speeder lay on its side, an almost unrecognizable ball of scrap. A trench of debris and wreckage carved into the soil for a half kilometer behind it, dust still fading into the air. Smoke rose from the center of the wreckage, steaming off of one of the speeder's still running power cells. A bloody, gloved hand emerged from the wreckage, latching onto a twisted part of the fuselage and, with effort, tearing it off onto the ground. A vague, red form crawled from the wreckage, shrapnel sticking out of it in various places. It stood slowly, turning its head past the remains of the speeder until it fixed on a nervous pile of metal, eyes flashing yellow.

"Well what the fuck was _that?_" A bloodied Revan yelled at the droid.

"I... I'm terribly sorry, sir, I never..."

"You jumped in front of me!"

There was a cough from inside the wreck, a great Mandalorian arm reaching out and pulling Canderous through the grass until he was free of the smoke. He stood, coughing into his hand before dusting himself in a futile effort. He remained covered in large splotches of power coolant, most of it from the speeder's shattered secondary cell.

"Not winning any swoop championships, huh?" Canderous asked the Stranger.

"It jumped in front of me! It literally jumped in front of the damn speeder!" Revan pointed an accusing finger at the protocol droid.

"Please, I... I'm so sorry..." It stammered.

"Why didn't you just run over it?" Canderous asked, frowning at the metallic servant.

"Because I have this crazy thing where I try not to crash into things when I'm zooming along at a billion kilometers an hours." The Stranger replied. Canderous stared at him a moment before turning to the wreckage of the speeder.

"Really?"

"Oh, shut up." The Stranger sighed. He paused for a moment, then whipped his head towards the wreck. "Where's the Cathar?"

The speeder's secondary power cell, by now billowing a torrent of black smoke, finally cooked off. The explosion ripped through what was left of the vehicle's left fuselage, knocking Canderous to the ground and sending debris deflecting off of the Stranger's hastily erected force shield.

"Oh, for... are you _kidding _me?" The stranger asked no one, grabbing a hunk of blackened steel in frustration and hurling it at the droid. It struck the stammering machine on the head, dropping it beneath the grass. "You piece of _crap_. Like they're going to believe she died in a speeder crash, I'm going to find out who owns you and-"

"I'm here." Juhani said. The Stranger furled his brow, turning to the source of the voice and seeing the Cathar perched deftly in a nearby tree.

"How..." He began.

"I leapt to safety once it became apparent you were no longer in control of the speeder. Which was... shortly before you swerved to avoid the protocol droid." She said, leaping out of the tree and landing softly on the grass below.

"Well... that's good, then." The Stranger said as Canderous picked himself up for the second time.

"Please... sir, if you could..." The droid stammered, appearing again above the grass line.

"You!" The Stranger pointed, marching across the field towards it. "You've got ten seconds to tell me why you jumped in front of me and the only reason I haven't disassembled you yet is because I'm _dying_ to hear the answer."

"I... it is complicated, but... I came to the conclusion that my master would be better off if I were no longer a factor."

The Stranger stopped, lowering his finger.

"Wait, you actually... you're suicidal? Droids can be suicidal now?"

"It is not... that. Exactly." The droid said. "My master has become too attached to me. Obsessed, even. She... treats me as he dead husband."

"All the time?" Canderous asked, walking towards the pair.

"Y-yes..." The droid said, shame present even in the synthetic voice.

"Ew." The Stranger said as Canderous laughed.

"It... it is not healthy for her. I was programmed to act as her caretaker, but she has become increasingly insular. She rarely sees other people and appears fixated on seeing me as her husband. Every night, she..." The droid stopped, interrupted by the Stranger's raised hand.

"Yeah, that's gross and all but in the interest of never hearing the rest of that, I can help you out."

"You will?" The droid asked, hope glimmering in its electronic eyes.

"Sure can. I've got a blaster here I can weld to your head. Let's see her rape you when you've got a laser face." He turned to the Mandalorian. "Canderous, see if my spanner's still in the speeder somewhere and not all melted and junk."

The droid stepped backwards, shocked.

"That is not... that is not what I meant. I fled from her because I determined the best way for me to care for her would be if I were removed from her life completely. She would see other people again. Real people. Living people. I saw your speeder coming and... I sensed opportunity. I did not mean for any of this to happen, I... am terribly sorry about all of it."

"So if the only thing she cares about in the whole galaxy disappears forever out of the blue one day with no explanation... you don't think that would just make her, like, crazier?" The Stranger asked.

"I... had not considered that, no."

"Or what if she finds out you self terminated? What would that do to her? Do you have any idea the long term emotional trauma that would cause? I mean, trust me on this, I'm pretty big on the long term emotional trauma thing. I know what I'm talking about."

"Oh my... you're right." The droid twisted its head around, as if examining its surroundings for the first time. "This... this was terribly misguided of me. I must return to her... I will do whatever I can to help her, but you are correct... I must not leave her as she is. Thank you." The robot shuffled away across the plain, rocking unsteadily as it disappeared behind a large cliff. The sun hung low in the clear Dantooine sky, a single cloud floating lazily across the blue.

"Droid's really going to serve its master tonight." Canderous remarked.

The Stranger smiled, frowning only after Juhani inquired about their return transportation.

Carth Onasi sat down in the pilot's seat of the Ebon Hawk, the monitoring systems of the stationary craft beeping with only the most basic of electronic functions. He leaned forward, punching in the signal code to perform a ship wide diagnostic check, the fourth he'd done in as many hours. Trask sat in the navigator's chair next to him, several bottles of Tarisian ale scattered about the floor. His feet were resting on top of the navigation console, bits of dried mud still clinging to his boots.

"All gone, Carth." He said, waving his hand in front of the cockpit's viewing window. "Whole planet, just... Boom. Right out from under us. The Endar Spire, too... I know... next to Taris one command cruiser is just... nothing, but that... the Spire was my ship, Carth. Everyone... all the people... I fought in the war, I know what it's like to lose friends, but I've never... had to lose everyone at once." He tossed the latest empty bottle to the floor.

"I know, it's been crazy ever since the Jedi came onboard. Insane, even. I still can't believe Taris is gone, not to mention how close we came to losing Bastila." Carth said, relaxing as the computers began their self-correcting scans.

"Yeah, don't wanna lose her. Fate of the Republic hinging on a damn little girl. Not the ships, not the soldiers, not any of the billions, trillions getting poured into the war effort, no, only thing keeping us afloat is a padawan Jedi with magical moral powers. And her friend, who's supposed to be even more magical, somehow. It's all crap." Trask searched a moment for an unopened bottle of ale. Finding none, he reclined further back in his seat, letting his hands hit the floor of the ship. "Crap."

"You know, speaking of her friend..." Carth said, eying the fellow soldier. "I never saw him come on with Bastila and her friends. There were only a handful of Jedi and believe me, I would have remembered him. Now he shows up out of nowhere and Bastila is saying he's just as important as she is, but I've never even heard of him."

"No one did." Trask said, barely paying attention. "He hasn't even got a name. Always just 'The Stranger' or some stupid thing like that. Mysterious Stranger, I think I even heard once."

"Well, near as I can guess he's a turncoat from the Sith. Probably knows some big weakness or a dark, terrible secret. You know, spy holo stuff. But until someone levels with me, I could care less what he's here for, they're not getting any more help from me."

"Can you do that?" Trask asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Of course I can do that, my mission ended when we touched down in the Academy. Hell, I was never even told to escort her, that was the Endar Spire's job. Now that she's safe, I've got no business sticking around, the Republic's got to need a pilot somewhere."

"Don't need any pilots." Trask said, closing his eyes. "Just some magical Jedi voodoo, all they ever needed it sounds like."

"I don't know." Carth replied, staring up at the ship's diagnostic results. "All they ever wanted, maybe." The ship's intercom light flashed with a quick, pulsing light. Carth stared at it a moment before pressing the button down.

"Yeah? Carth Here."

"Carth, this is Bastila. Something's happened to him."

"This bodes poorly." Vrook said, robe trailing against the ramp as he stepped out of the tiny freighter and onto the landing bay. "At the very least, I want her off of that ship. The further away from him she is the better."

Vandar shook his head, chair hovering into place beside his friend.

"We cannot risk moving her in the condition she is in, and you underestimate Bastila's determination. The bond works both ways, even as Revan's corruption is in danger of seeping into her, all that is good in her has a chance of seeping into him. And by separating them, any chance of gaining his true cooperation would be lost."

"As if any chance existed at all. Did you forget who we're dealing with? Hundreds of Jedi have died by his hand, many of our own students were slain or worse in both the Mandalorian war and his direct attack against the Order. He will betray anyone and anything if it means consolidating power. You cannot use evil to fight evil, Vandar."

"I am not convinced we are." Vandar said as the two passed into the courtyard.

"Now you're just goading me."

"I did not send him to Juhani to see if he would spare her. He will return her to us, unharmed and closer to the light for her ordeal. I sent him so that he would be reminded of the tragedy that befell the Cathar, and the reason for his war." Vandar said, passing a young Jedi who sat near the central tree.

"The reason for his war was arrogance and greed. I've known him since he was but a child, he was always willful and headstrong. Combine that with a growing lust for power and a master practically a Sith herself... along with your constant refusal to interfere on behalf of the Jedi Council... could he have become anything but the monster he is? War did not forge him, Vandar. His heart was black long before the Mandalorians reared their heads."

"Let us see, Vrook." Vandar said as they disappeared into the council chambers. "Let us see."

"Hold on, need to... take a break." The Stranger said, pausing as he hunched forward, breathing heavily. "Stupid... droid."

The grassy field around them glowed with a dull yellow light from the setting Dantooine sun. It had been three hours since they first started their hike and the Stranger, already bloodied and battered from the crash, was looking quite the worse for wear. His jacket had been discarded, as had his mechanic's gloves. The gray, sleeveless undershirt he wore was slashed in numerous places and stained red in even more, though his skin had healed fully underneath.

"Want me to carry you?" Canderous asked, natural resilience and cybernetic healing implants combining to make the Mandalorian appear perfectly fine, aside from some dirt and torn clothing.

"Yes." The Stranger replied. "That would be nice."

"I... must admit to some confusion, I had thought a Jedi, especially one of your capabilities, to be more... well, capable." Juhani said.

"It's been a long time since the war, kid." The Stranger said, straightening up and taking a breath. "I haven't been on the front lines for... years and after Malachor that was mostly me standing still while everything around me died. Seven mile hikes aren't really my thing."

"It's a four mile hike." Canderous said.

"Wonderful."

"We're a mile and a half into it."

The Stranger cursed quietly under his breath and trudged forward. Canderous and Juhani exchanged concerned glances before following in his trail.

"What battles were you in?" Canderous asked as they walked.

"All of them." The Stranger replied, hesitating. "Well, most of them."

"Dxun?" He asked.

"Crashed into the canopy on a downed basilisk, killed the rider and took out one their major defensive installations with a handful of soldiers three other Jedi."

"Impressive." Canderous replied.

"That's what everyone tells me."

A low whine sounded in the distance behind them, and the Stranger turned in time to see the three speeders rushing headlong towards them through the grass, setting sun glinting off their metal paint.

"Mandalorians." Juhani said, hatred hushed just beneath her breath.

"No." Canderous corrected her, turning to the onrushing speeders. "They're nothing more than bandits, now."

"And I don't suppose they're stopping?" The Stranger said, watching the armored men inside steadying their blaster rifles. "Alright, everyone get ready."

Juhani drew the hilt of her saber from its holster as the rightmost speeder broke away, heading towards her directly. The blade from her saber flashed red as the Mandalorian's opened fire, their blasts deflected into the sky by her parries. The speeder swerved away, unwilling to approach a Jedi at melee range. Juhani braced herself against the ground, pushing the planet out from under her as she leapt across the expanse of grass, clearing thirty feet and passing just above the swerving speeder. Her saber flashed, the head of the driving Duros still sailing through the air as she landed. The speeder spun sideways, dipping downward until the front most corner pierced the dirt, turning the rest of the vehicle in to a twisting, bouncing fireball.

Canderous had lost his repeating blaster to the crash and was armed now with only the barest of weapons. A heavy blaster pistol and a single unused thermal detonator from their earlier attack. The speeder nearest to him opened fire, carbine bolts singing the air beside his head. He broke left, sprinting towards the cover of a nearby rock formation. An explosion rocked the ground from somewhere behind him, distracting the bandits on the speeder as it passed him, giving him an easy shot to wing the thermal detonator. Canderous twisted as he leapt behind the rocks, flinging the thermal detonator in a unconnected haymaker. The silver ball struck the passing speeder just below the dashboard, bouncing down into the passenger's seat as its beeping grew to a rapid roar.

The Stranger stood in place as the second explosion ripped through the air behind him, the lone remaining speeder suddenly swerving and slowing to a stop fifteen feet in front of him. Five Mandalorians emerged, fully encased in armor, one much larger than the rest. His armor was red, two massive vibro blades sat strapped his sprawling back and his belt was adorned with a half dozen lightsaber hilts. There was a smile in his voice, masked behind the helmet.

"I knew no _farmer_ could be responsible for all of this trouble." His voice was thick, almost heavy. The armored men beside him chambered power cells into their blasters. Canderous pressed his back against the stone, watching the scene from the relative safety of the rock formation. He gripped the heavy plaster pistol in his hand, waiting for a signal to fire.

"I am Sherruk, and I will add your heads to the heads of the other Jedi I have collected, and take yet another lightsaber for my own. Prepare to pay for your medeling, Jedi."

It was at that moment that Juhani smashed into the Mandalorian leader like a comet from the heavens. Her saber flashed red behind the crimson armor as Sherruk stumbled forward. She swung down, aiming to cleave his neck from his shoulders. The red blade struck his armor and in a shower of sparks, was thrown away.

Like a streak of lightning Sherruk turned, grabbing Juhani by the throat and lifting her into the air with a single hand. A sudden, crushing squeeze caused her to drop her saber as Sherruk reached behind him, pulling one of the vibroblades from its sheathe. His men, recovering from the sudden attack, aimed their blasters at the unarmed man before them, only to find that he was not there.

Sherruk gripped the squirming Cathar tighter, her feet kicking at him uselessly. He pulled his vibro blade back above his head, poised to thrust it into the alien's hate-filled eyes when the front of his armor exploded, shards of durasteel passing through his personal energy shield and past his Cathar victim, scattering across the grass. The hole in his armor was clean, exposing a bare, evidently undamaged chest. Sherruk heaved, the sound of blood gurgling from inside his helmet. The Stranger stood behind him, palm firmly pressed against his armored back. There was a great groaning, and the mighty Sherruk fell to his knees, dropping Juhani and his drawn blade.

One of the remaining Mandalorians was ripped through the air towards the Stranger, helmet connecting with a roundhouse kick that shattered the durasteel armor. His body continued, flipping through the air into one of his comrades, knocking him to the ground. The two remaining bandits opened fire. With impossible speed, the Stranger ripped a pair of lighsabers from the still falling Sherruk, blue and violet blades exploding from their holsters as the two Mandalorians found themselves pulled, twisting, towards the spinning blades.

Juhani flinched away from the sight, although the screams of the dying men would travel with her until the end of her days.

The Stranger stood amongst the bodies and severed limbs, sabers humming in a vicious growl. His undershirt was soiled with blood and sweat, tattered. His pale skin stood in stark contrast to the black and crimsons splatters. The blades slipped once more into their hilts, the sudden silence deafening. He turned to Juhani, a slow smile creeping across his face.

"Well, that wasn't bad for an out of shape old fart, was it?" He dropped one of the sabers, reaching out and taking her hand. "You alright?" He asked, lifting her up. There was a groan from one of the bodies, the Mandalorian struggling to move the weight of the armored corpse that was draped on top of him. A single blast shot out through the still of the air, connecting the the Mandalorian's head and jerking it sideways, where lay still. Canderous stood, leaning out from the pile of rocks with his blaster held out in a single hand.

"Alright, then. Thank you, Canderous, for your aid."

"I try to pull my weight." He said, holstering the blaster. "I assuming that's our ride."

"You assume correctly." The stranger said, climbing into the driver's seat with Juhani following quickly behind. "Get in, we've got a prodigal padawan to deliver."

"Juhani!" Belaya shouted, rushing forward and embracing her love. "I was so worried! I thought..."

"It is alright, Belaya." Juhani smiled, returning the warm embrace. Belaya squeezed, tears coming slowly to her eyes. She began to speak, trying to choke up.

"I never would have forgiven myself if anything-"

"Woah." A voice interrupted. Belaya turned her head, noticing for the first time the pale, dark haired man covered in blood and dirt. "Woah." He continued. "Hugging is against the Jedi code, I mean, directly. It's right between 'thou shalt suck' and 'though shalt have a stick up thy ass', you need to study that thing a little more closely."

Belaya released Juhani, stammering, a small hint of red growing on her cheeks.

"I..." She started. "Who... who are you?"

"And amazing man." Juhani replied, resting a hand on Belaya's shoulders. "He is the one who saved me from my fall, and convinced me to return to the Jedi."

"Oh." Belaya stared, shocked. "Th-Thank you, I... I don't know if I can tell you how much Juhani means to me."

"Don't worry, I think I can guess pretty well." He gave Juhani an informal salute, heading off to the council chambers with the giant Mandalorian in tow.

They stopped just outside the main door, the Stranger turning to Canderous and pointing towards one of the hall's side doors.

"Alright, this is one of those 'For Your Eyes Only' deals, if you wanna head to the merchant district or start a fight in the cantina or something, I'll let you know when I'm done." The stranger said.

"Sure, sure, I've still got a few credits from Davik I need to burn. Come see me when you're ready to get off this rock."

Canderous turned, leaving out the smaller door, the Stranger watching the empty doorway for a moment before turning and opening the grand double door.

The council chambers were surprisingly spartan, a circular room that was almost entirely bare except for the small arrangement of chairs clustered against the far end. Each of these chairs were currently occupied by a member of the academy council, the only other living beings in the chamber besides the Stranger.

"Good, you're home." He strolled across the empty expanse, every councilor turning to watch him. "Because I've got some amazing news for you. Whats-her-face is safe and sound and you're not ever going to pull this test of honor crap with me again or I'm going to throw this entire building into the sun."

Vrook visibly bit his tongue.

"We heard of Juhani's return, and we owe you a heartfelt thanks for returning her to us." Master Zhar said.

"Yes, happy reunion, wonderful, everyone's super proud. Now maybe we can get down to the business of me saving you from an enemy you could never hope to stop in a million years." The Stranger stopped in front of the council chairs, crossing his bare, subtly muscled arms. The silver hilt of the lightsaber on his belt glistened in the fading light.

"It is a grave matter indeed." Vandar said, crossing his hands. "Many Jedi have fallen to the Sith, and even more have turned against us as agents of the dark side. The Republic and the Jedi order are still reeling from the aftershocks of a major galactic war, and we are in no position to challenge a Sith empire of seemingly limitless numbers."

"Yes." The Stranger rubbed his temple. "Thank you for that, I think I know more about the current state of galactic affairs more than anyone ever, but thank you for that completely unnecessary recap for everyone who wasn't up to speed. Which, given the company, should be _no one_."

"We need to know where the Sith fleet is coming from." Vrook said, edging forward in his seat. "Some of the ships are old Republic cruisers but most of them are designs we've never seen before, and in the numbers they're appearing it's like they're being built from nothing."

"Yes, well, funny that." The Stranger said, resting his hands behind his back. "They are."

"I won't tolerate anymore of your juvinile-" Vrook was interrupted by the Stranger raising his hand.

"There is a manufacturing facility, a starbase, hidden deep within Sith space. It harnesses the force as a production mechanism, drawing matter and energy from a nearby star and combining it with the force, creating massive armies of droids and endless fleets of ships from, more or less, nothing."

The council stared, silent. The Stranger could feel Vrook's disbelieving bile vitirole rising to the surface.

"There is a cave on Dantooine, the other side of the world, that holds a temple to the factory's original creators. There was, last I saw, a functional droid who can, if nothing else, reveal the existence of such a place. The temple also contains a star map of their empire, and, originally, the location of the factory." The Stranger swallowed, clearing his throat with a small cough. "Unfortunately, tide of time has damaged much of its original functionality and only a portion of the coordinates are still accessible. However... it does contain the locations of four other temples scattered across various planets all along the outer rim, and by visiting each one of these temples, all with similar star maps, it is possible to combine the damaged sequences into a completed set of coordinates that reveal the location of the twenty thousand year old and completely functional mass production facility." He finished.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Vrook said. "In my entire life."

"Yes, it's..." The Stranger scratched the back of his head, looking away. "It's pretty dumb."

"Assuming this is true..." Master Zhar began. "...What is your intention?"

"Well..." The Stranger said, hesitating. The fading, natural light of the Dantooine sun filtered through the windows bordering the chamber's ceiling, shining down on the stranger like a spotlight. "...If we were to collect all the available maps, I could return to the production facility, the Rakata Starforge, and take it away from the petulant child now leading the Sith."

"And what then? We trade one dark lord for another." Vrook said.

"Taris should tell you which you'd rather have." The Stranger stepped forward, resting his hands behind his back. "First Telos, then Taris... it will not end, you know. Not while Malak still has a fleet to call his own. He is an animal, simple and savage. He knows only brute force and intimidation with no regard for stability or order. I fully intend to reclaim the mantle of Lord of the Sith, and I will oust the already crippled and dying Galactic Republic in favor of a government capable of actual domestic administration and a military doctrine that does not involve invaders cutting a swath to our core worlds unopposed and an order of force users dedicated to being more than lawn ornaments."

The reaction from the council was instantanious and unanimous. Dismissal, refusal, Vrook went so far as to threatened the Stranger with imprisonment on the spot. Only Vandar said anything different.

"Why not travel directly to the Starforge itself? If such a thing exists, you would know where it was located." He questioned.

"I can point to it on a map, but I don't have the exact hyperspace coordinates. Which means shooting through a hypserspace lane by the seat of our pants and coming out a few million miles away from where you want to be, if you come out at all."

"We will investigate the cave you speak of, then... we will discuss the options at hand." Vandar said, settling into his chair for what was sure to be a long, tiring debate.

"Surely you can't be serious." Vrook said, turning to his friend. "To give even a hint of credence to his story-"

"You should return to your ship." Zhar said to the Stranger. "We will summon you when our investigation is done, and our course decided."

The Stranger gave a sweeping bow before turning on the council and exiting the chamber door.

"You're okay!" Bastila exclaimed, Revan ducking into the medical bay and plopping down on an unused metal chair next to the foot of Bastila's bed. "I... think." She added, noting the blood, sweat, and tattered clothing.

"Fine, fine. Never better." He said, reaching forward and grabbing the water beside her bed and downing it in a single gulp. The empty glass struck the table, a sigh of relief coming from her visitor.

"What... happened?" Bastila asked, Revan's pale skin standing out in contrast against the dull light of the medical bay.

"An immense amount of fun." He said, tilting his head to her. "You should have been there."

"I've had enough fun to last a lifetime, I think."

"Suit yourself." Revan said, stretching out in the chair. "I talked to the council, they're going to bicker at each other until Vandar gets his way and then we're going on an adventure. For your sake, I'll make sure to make it as unfun as possible."

"What do you mean?" Bastila tried unsuccessfully to proper herself up on her bed.

"We're going to visit exotic locales and interesting locals in a pan-galactic quest to bring Malak to his knees and give him a thumping." Revan said, crossing his hands in front of his lap. "Because a thumping is probably number one on the list of things Malak desperately needs. A wig is probably just ahead of it."

Bastila smiled for a moment, before it slowly soured.

"What happened to you?" She asked. This Dark Lord was nothing like what she'd imagined, nothing like what she'd heard. He seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be a good person if not a model Jedi. "You were great once, you were a hero in every sense of the word... you... you've fallen further than any Jedi in living memory and you act like you've done none of these things. I... I look at you and remember the stories, the datanet reports from worlds besieged by the Sith and I... I can't imagine you being behind it."

"Oh, I've done terrible things." Revan said, resting his chin on his folded hand. "I've made decisions that would make a Gammorean shudder for their brutality. But I did them all because I knew, in the end, more would be saved because of it. The Mandalorians were slaughtering Republic citizens and soldiers by the billions, they wiped out entire planets through orbital genocide, they stood poised to drive into the core of the Republic and conquer the galaxy. What good would action by the Jedi do then? When trillions are dead and the Mandalorian fleets quell dissent by turning planets to glass? When Cassus Fett brought fire to the skies of Cathar, I saw the seeds of what the Mandalorian war would truly bring, and I knew that stopping that was worth any price."

"But..." Bastila frowned, her face scrunching downwards. "The council..."

"The council understands _nothing_." Revan stood, sweeping his hand across the medical bay and gesturing to the Academy outside. "The walls of this place and Coruscant temple are all they ever see! They sit on their humble thrones and dictate the fate of trillions in a galaxy they will never see! They are an order of hypocrites and liars, warrior pacifists and defenders of an imaginary peace. They repeat their code of peace, knowledge and harmony while shutting out anything that might show them that the galaxy is _not that simple_." Revan paused, clenching his hands. "They claim peace while watching genocide, claim knowledge as they preach ignorance, profess themselves to be in harmony as the galaxy burns around them and _I will not allow it anymore_."

Revan stared at Bastila, yellow eyes piercing through the dim light, seemingly glowing with a luminescence of their own. His breathing was slow, labored. His voice was cold, a steel behind it she had never heard. It was the voice of one who ordered the deaths of millions.

"I saved this galaxy once before, Bastila. I will do it again."


End file.
